


Godless

by insertbestname



Category: Naruto
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Gods, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Shinto, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Third Great Shinobi War, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-04 22:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11564418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertbestname/pseuds/insertbestname
Summary: Raised in an isolated shrine by the wolf-kami and priests, Mira is tasked to revive the kamigami in a land bloodied by the Third Shinobi World War. After a tragic mistake, Villages soon target her - including the Leaf's Team Minato. Caught between the world of kamigami and the world of man, Mira must forge a path which could destroy either one.[Slow Burn; Canon-compliant Original Plot; Multi-OC]Cross-posted from FanFiction.com.





	1. Introduction

We were young when we met. Well, I was young when we met. Death had changed them, made them grow up too fast. Him especially. Compared to them, I was entirely too naïve, entirely too trusting that everything would be simple, easy, happy. I knew nothing of the world then. Just that shrine few recall from legend.

I remember that place now. It was in the range of jagged mountain's teeth, a fading sore in a valley that no map marked. The primal forest smothered the buildings, ignorant to how it suffocated the structures with a pillow of jade. All around this outpost of humanity, behemoths waded amongst the sea of roots and vines, noble beasts that myths claimed were the direct descendants of the first creations.

Yet that edge of the wood was still young. Young at least compared to where Mother raised me – where the ancient trees reigned and the very air was alive. There, even those hulking creatures would find themselves pups amongst the trunks, bawling beneath boughs so thick they created eternal night.

After I left, I realized those mountains – my home – held no name. It was mentioned only in hushed whispers by those who lived in the sparse villages beneath their immense shadows. "It's sacred," they hissed at me, pulling their cloaks tighter, their eyes darting. "Only the kamigami live there." I'd grit my teeth then, and  _he_  would give me that look of his. He’d usher me from the crowd gawking at the strange girl claiming she was from those mountains, claiming those myths and legends were real.

The thing is they were. Kamigami did live there. Kamigami who gazed out upon the world and saw what it had become. It was the humans who did it. The human instinct for destruction left the earth shackled and bloodied by the Third Great Shinobi War. The Villages fought viciously, each side seeking an advantage to slit the others' throats. Hatred, fear, and desperation plagued the land. Unfortunately, some shinobi began to believe in old legends, in the peaks where the kamigami walked.

I didn't know about any of the horrors raging outside my home then, but I look back on it now and see the irony in it all. An irony I'm now able to tell in the tongue of man. The irony that a human's belief destroyed the kamigami, and how I, Mira, adopted human of the wolf-kami, ensured it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello there, person brave and curious enough to click on this story! I guess you're reading this to get a better a sense of what it's about. This will be my longest author's note by far. I don't know if anyone reads them or likes them but bear with me if you dare. 
> 
> First off, I’m writing this for a fun way to practice different writing techniques. Hopefully, as the story progresses my writing improves, though I do go back periodically and update the most glaring mistakes. Since I don’t have a beta, please forgive any easy mistakes because of tired eyes (though please shout out in a comment if you see any). Otherwise, definitely check out the latest chapter if you think these are too rough for you to read. 
> 
> Secondly, I'd agree with one anonymous reviewer and say that you should "think Naruto combined with Shintoism, Mushi-shi, Princess Mononoke" [high praise and probable influences since I love those works] though this isn't a crossover story. Instead, it’s a standalone plot that runs alongside and often intermixes with canon (i.e. What are the biju really? Who was Kaguya? How did the shinobi tradition originally develop? Who tipped the Akatsuki off that something like the Ten Tails existed?). 
> 
> I give all these new interpretations with a Shinto/spiritual twist in a plot that begins before Kakashi Gaiden and will end with Naruto Shippuden. Everything will eventually be tied into canon ramifications and is thoroughly studied before implementation (i.e. I use real Shinto kamigami/gods and traditions to influence the setting and characters). Essentially, the kamigami are real and are the instigators of canon plot. Thus, possibly over rehashed canon events will be seen from a new perspective with new motivations and impacts behind them. 
> 
> The main character is Mira, a female OC [*cue the back button for many readers*], who will be amongst the ones you know and love from the series. Primarily, this will be Team Minato. As my plot involves elements which do not exist in the main story, there will be new settings and other OCs as well to help flesh out the Shinto aspect (i.e. wolves, priests, kamigami, etc.). However, many times I will add a ‘Shinto aspect’ onto canon characters. For example, some may be descendants of priests, others may even be kamigami themselves. I hope reveals like that will be as fun for the reader as they are for me to write. 
> 
> As Mira ages, the maturity level will increase with more curses and *fluffy* romance. There will be a slow-burn romance(s? <\- gotta add that question mark to keep you guessing) but, ultimately, they won’t take over the central plot and will serve as additional motivations to the characters. 
> 
> Commenters have called my writing style “immersive”, which is beyond neat(!), but also probably polite for a ‘long buildup’. I did this to fully establish the Shinto perspective before introducing the canon plot. Thus, I’ll warn that, while shinobi mentions and explanations begin almost immediately, canon characters debut in Chapter 6 and become fully involved with Mira by Chapter 16 [*cue 90% of the remaining readers clicking a different story*].
> 
> For those of you who’ve stuck around, I sincerely hope you enjoy. As all FanFic writers, I put a lot of love and work into this so it’s been a joy to make. I plan to complete the story but due to life being crazy and unpredictable, expect irregular updates. Unless I specify otherwise in an author’s note (A/N), I will try to post at least once every month if not sooner. This'll be a long one, folks so I hope you enjoy the ride!
> 
> As always, please review whether you just mention general feels and reactions or (highly encouraged) constructive criticism! I try to reply to every review as well because, hell, if you put in the time, I can too. Ignore my response if you please. Otherwise, I just love hearing from the readers, and it often encourages me to work just that later into the night!  
> Either way, happy reading on FanFiction!
> 
> Disclaimer: I make no claims to ownership of any part of Naruto. From here on out, there will be kamigami, wolves, chakra and musubi, death, vengeance, and epic-ness. Chocolate and candy will make multiple cameos. Let's do this.
> 
> SPECIAL NOTE: This story is cross-posted from FanFiction.net. As FF.net continues to have problems, I will be shifting more of my work to this platform. Thus, please be patient and excuse any areas you may notice are under construction as I figure out this platform.


	2. Chapter 2

I didn’t understand it. It looked so fragile. All of it. The four buildings were crumpling beneath an onslaught of encroaching boughs, their unnatural walls caving beneath the natural hostility reserved for those who don’t belong. The feebly trodden paths were already disappearing beneath a rug of weeds and grass, their existences soon only to be memories. From what I could sense, the whole shrine would sink beneath the unflagging waves of the woods.

My stomach squirmed as if filled with frantic worms, and a low whine escaped my throat. I lifted my nose, scrunching it as I smelled seared flesh upon the smoke that rose from the largest building. Lights flickered through the wooden slats, signaling the presence of the intruders. _Eating,_ I thought, hunkering back low to the ground. I gnawed my lip, my nerves getting the better of me.

My gaze flicked to the smaller two buildings – one filled with refuse, the other a shed that stored their food. A familiar urge whispered in my ear. _It’s so fun and easy_ , it mused. Eager for any distraction, I latched onto it, forcing it to drown out my fear. My nails raked the soil as a shiver ran down my back, memories of strange yet delicious tastes dancing on my tongue. My stomach rose an inch off the ground – I was ready to slither through the shadows and pounce upon my prey.

I froze for a moment, squirming as I eyed the last building. It was unlike the other slapdash structures. Framed by an emerald pond and ever-blooming cherry trees, it was a part of the nature here, standing tall and delicate like some sort of flower. The roof was carefully inlaid with rectangular stones, its ends tipping upward like ashen petals. Its white walls and supporting oak beams were fastidiously clean, its porches always swept. Nature left it untouched. Not even the lightest breeze ever fluttered its papered walls.

Of course, I felt my gaze returned. My lips tugged low as I dipped my head and swiveled away from its chastisement. Guilt still tickled my gut as the glare from Mother’s shrine grew heavier but my gaze flicked back to the treasure trove. I knew the chiding I’d get once she’d smell the human’s smoke clinging to my hair, infesting my breath. Still, my mouth watered.

 _She’s the one who wants me to become more human,_ I grumbled, my greed tickling that festering wound. _I mean, if they just didn’t make it so easy-_ I pushed myself up but froze just as a light breeze bore a heavy presence. Eyes widened, I dropped to my stomach, letting the scent of old rain, dark soil, and fresh blood wash over me. The familiar musk grew stronger as the wolf materialized from the shadows and stalked up beside me. His long, powerful stride flaunted his strength as his midnight coat, glistening as if with hundreds of stars, declared his health. The scars brandishing his bloodied snout sported his life of triumphs in hunt and combat.

 _‘Mira,’_ he greeted, his head low with respect. His ears perked, and he nipped my hair. He lay down beside me, his gaze settling on the shrine before us. ‘ _I figured you’d be here, little one. Not planning more mischief, I see?’_

I lowered my chin to the ground, glancing at him out of the corner of my vision. He had earned that lax way he held himself, but the constant flaring of his nostrils, the constant roving of those sharp eyes, belied his constant alertness. His ears twitched, his left one a bit stiff because of the large scar stitching its center.

I wouldn’t be able to do anything. Not tonight.

I rolled my eyes and huffed as I fell onto my stomach. My belly gurgled out a betrayed whine, and I puffed out my cheeks as I pawed at the dirt in front of me.

Kizuato’s amber eyes focused on me, light amusement dancing there. I turned, my lips already curling as I saw that fangless, hairless human stare back at me – my reflection as insulting as ever. Nothing would ever be frightened by that bony frame, that rounded face. I could only hope that age would sharpen my features, strengthen my limbs like they already had with my siblings.

The wolf rubbed his snout with a heavy paw, remarking, ‘ _You’ll eat their food soon enough, Mira.’_ We watched the smoke spiral into the air, climbing a current I traced with my eyes. His golden gaze rested upon me once more, his sharp senses already penetrating my charade. ‘ _Nervous?’_

I drew my lips back. ‘ _No,’_ I grumbled. ‘ _Why would I be? They’re humans.’_

He cocked his head, amusement relaxing his ears. ‘ _What happened to our self-proclaimed scout? Done asking questions? Figured out what those ‘weird noises’ the humans were making? Why they claw at the ground with branches? Why they smell so bad?’_ He lifted his snout, a rumble shaking his chest. _‘Oh, and my favorite question of yours, ‘Why are they even here?’’_

I felt my skin grow hot as pride expanded within me. My fur bristled, but I kept the growl from my throat.

Kizuato lifted his snout, his eyes growing softer as his chest billowed. ‘ _You are a wolf, Mira. No matter where you go, you’ll always be pack. There’s nothing to prove.’_

I opened my mouth, puncturing my ballooned cheeks. The breath slid out between my lips as an equally weak breeze tossed my matted fur. My brow furrowed as I sniffed the frail wind, knowing its journey was nearing its end. It had come a long way, but all I could catch were the scents of wolf and man. Their battle for supremacy ignited in my nose, their vicious war-cries tickling the nerves there. As the battle built with no side close to victory, I couldn’t take it anymore: I sneezed and silenced them all.

Kizuato, chuckling with that wolf’s shake of shoulders, too turned his nose to the wind. As had kept happening recently, a small crease settled over his brow. I knew it wasn’t the human’s scent bothering him: he was used to their terrible smell.

 _‘What?’_ I asked, taking another whiff of the air. My weaker nose always seemed to miss everything.

The frown left him as he turned towards me. ‘ _Blood. Distant. Human. Nothing to worry about.’_ He swished his tail, his nose already wrinkling as he assessed the shrine once more.

I stared at where the breeze had limped from and cocked my head. For as far as I could see, there were only rows upon rows of trees, their peaks undulating like stalks of grass as a stronger gale raced amongst them. For as long as I had lived, I had never seen their end, had never reached the land that stretched out flat as meadows, had never seen what Mother seemed to fear.

 _Not for lack of trying,_ I grumbled to myself.

I froze as what felt like wet pebbles pressed into my back and nudge me. Of course, even that fraction of force sent me nearly sprawling onto my back. Gaining my balance, I scowled back at Kizuato who dipped his snout again to nuzzle me onto to my feet. His eyes laughing, he murmured, ‘ _Time to go home, Mira.’_ He stood up himself and stepped over me, his chest towering above me as his tail washed me beneath a trail of midnight.

I blanched but forced my feet to jog after him. I kept close to his back paws, slightly grateful for the constant barrage of little stones he kicked up that kept me focused on deflecting rather than the future. I followed the temporarily cleared path he carved through the bushes until we broke onto an old hunting trail and padded up the narrow slope towards the rest of the pack. Their warm, earthy scent embraced me – one that smelled like young saplings and sunburnt fur. My ears perked as I could hear the yipping of my adopted littermates, and my jog broke to a sprint.

I burst through the underbrush and pounced upon my unsuspecting victim. Ashi yelped as I leapt onto her neck, yanking her down to the floor. The youngest of the pack and the only girl of Kizuato’s litter, she was a marbled white, stringy pup. She was just starting her growth spurt, leaving me just under her chest. I could still drag her to the floor albeit only if I took her by surprise.

 _‘Sis!’_ I yapped, prancing around my sister’s straightening form. ‘ _You did it! Your first hunt!’_

She wriggled on her back, giving a happy howl, and leapt to her feet, as spry as ever. ‘ _I did! I did!’_ She nipped my neck, daring me to topple her again, when our two brothers, Teru and Utau, tackled her from the side. Utau escaped the ensuing tangle of legs and snapping jaws and trotted over to me, giving a quick shake of his black and grey tail.

 _‘Where were you?’_ he badgered, shoving my face with his equally-sized nose. ‘ _Why’re you not celebrating?’_

I lifted my snout and turned away, puffing out my chest. _‘I will when I get my own.’_

His lips wrinkled as he cocked an ear. _‘It’s about being a team, right? If you hadn’t confused the herd with that human’s scent of yours, we wouldn’t have gotten any.’_ He realized that he’d said something worse when my glare darted between his eyes and throat – the usual start to any tussle. He lowered his ears and straightened up. ‘ _Well, I saw you almost got your own? You just got bucked off is all.’_

I wrinkled my nose and took his apology. ‘ _Next time. I just didn’t get a good grip.’_

 _‘Yeah, right,’_ Teru called over as he held Ashi down. ‘ _You’re the size of a flea. I have to be careful sneezing when you’re around.’_

Already aching for a fight, I launched myself at him, unable to budge the figure that was nearly identical to that of his father. I hung from his chest, latched onto his fur and unable to do anything as his shoulders shook in jaunty mirth.

His chest rumbled beneath me as he growled, _‘Trying to take on a future alpha, little flea?’_

I sank my fangs as deep as they’d go but found myself only gagging on an explosion of fur. By the long, poking bristles, I knew I hadn’t even made it to his undercoat.

 _‘My point exactly,’_ Teru mused, scratching himself and flinging me to the floor.

I landed on my back and glared up at his toothy grin. I picked up a stone beside me and flung it, smacking him on the nose. He yipped, rubbing the spot with his paw. Ashi, taking advantage of her position, flung Teru off of her, and the scuffle began again. As soon as Kizuato stepped out of the bushes, a content resignation in his shoulders, the pups shouted ‘ _Dad!_ ’ and rounded on him.

Giggling, I settled myself on my haunches and gazed at the rest of the pack. The other adults were here – Kegawa, Shizuka, Isamu, and Hana. The first three acknowledged me with a wave of their tails as they returned to a well-earned lethargic drowse: accompanying us on hunt must’ve sapped both nerves and energy.

I pursed my lips. _We hadn’t done_ that _badly._ I thought back to Shizuka snatching me away from a stampede of hooves with a snap of fangs. I looked to her mottled form and saw that she was already snoring. _I mean they only had to step in a few times, right?_

Hana lifted herself with a long stretch and a yawn, and padded over to where I sat. The conscious wolves dipped their ears to her, waiting for her to settle to be sure there was no order. I lowered my own chin as the matriarch settled her mottled-cream form beside me. Her lips curled back over yellowed fangs, and for a moment I thought she’d chide me for not having rubbed off the humans’ scent. Instead she nuzzled my cheek as her tail encircled me. She pulled me closer, her warmth staving off the shivering I had learned to ignore.

Nestled like that, we watched the mock battle – one where the pups had circled the father. Teru pounced with a weight already rivalling his father’s. Kizuato easily dodged the blatant attack and with a quick shove of his head, knocked the pup to the floor.

 _‘He’s grown,’_ Hana appraised, watching Teru leap to his feet, already going in for his next attack. She turned her yellow eyes to me. ‘ _As have you, Mira.’_

Pleased even if it was a lie, I kept silent, watching as Kizuato quickly knocked Teru and Ashi to the floor and gave them his critiques. Utau, never much one for fighting, had already slunk up to his mother’s side and settled there.

Hana looked down at him and began cleaning some muck behind his ears. _‘You don’t want to practice?’_ she murmured.

He flicked his ear. _‘Well, lil’ Mi-Bee’s not.’_

Hana’s fur stiffened around me as she said, _‘Utau, show your respect._ Mira _is the daughter of the wolf-kami.’_

 _‘It’s just Mira though,’_ he whined back as confused as I had always been by the adults’ strange formalities with me.

His chestnut eyes fell on me for support and I found myself fidgeting as I defended, _‘I like my nickname better.’_

 Hana fixed me with a cool eye, but we were saved when Kizuato trotted over to us. He licked Hana’s cheek, soothing her expression, before he turned towards me. ‘ _Ready to head back,_ Mira _,’_ he emphasized.

I jumped to my feet and hopped out of the forest of cream fur. My littermates, sensing my departure, swarmed me, nipping and licking and yapping about hurrying back. Amongst the barks and yelps of goodbyes, I heard Utau murmur a _‘Thanks, Mi-Bee’_ just before Kizuato’s teeth grasped my arm and lifted me above the stampede of paws.

I gave a yip of farewell as I sailed into the air over their heads. I swayed in the air as Kizuato left the clearing, my legs catching on the jagged underbrush that the alpha’s coat glanced away. He lowered me to the soil, and, gaining my feet, I rubbed my shoulder, feeling the bruises already forming as I flicked his saliva off. The wolf playfully snorted, the gust of hot air blasting my face. Grinning as I shook my fur back into place, I slid into my spot in between his black forepaws, and ran to keep up with his slow, yet long-strided, stroll.

As we waded through the green, I could sense Kizuato’s gaze. I peered up at him, feeling as if hundreds of ants were scrambling across my skin. ‘ _’m not nervous,’_ I spoke, but the snap in my voice betrayed me.

Kizuato gave a low growl in warning.

 _‘I knew it was gonna happen,’_ I continued, reining in the bite. I looked down at my dirt-covered, pink limbs. ‘ _Mother told me since I was little that I needed to learn their ways too. I’m-’_ I paused, gnawing my cheek. ‘ _I’m me.’_

Kizuato tapped me with his nose, dampening my back. ‘ _The pack will always be close, little one. You’ll never be alone.’_

 _‘What if they change me?’_ I whimpered.

A warm breeze floated past me with his deep exhale. ‘ _You know what the Great Mother has told you. ‘That’s the disease of mortals. Change is just another name for time, and not even the kamigami know the cure.’’_ His nose poked the back of my head. _‘Besides, weren’t you scared of us when Ōkami first sent you?’_

Still scowling, I silenced another whine and strode through woods which grew darker. We climbed no trail – at least, none visible to that mortal sense. The delicate route was imperceptible to Kizuato who padded behind me, making sure his gaze never left my form: he had said that once he had paused to scratch his ear – when he looked back, I had disappeared.

We passed through trunks which grew old and decadent, bestowed their majesty by time itself. The lacings of leaves above thickened until they cloaked the sky, leaving those below in eternal night. While there was life in this younger wood, it was much more _restrained_ here, contained by the life forms themselves. The foxes that prowled, the deer that grazed, the owls that soared – each held a splinter of what the ancient wood was: pure life. There, energy flowed in and out of everything, uniting all in the cosmos’s bond. There, even Mother held deference to the weakest breeze.

That’s where I was heading: the land of the kamigami.

It called to me – that source of the universe. I knew we were close when ethereal mist spiraled up from the ground. Kizuato slowed to a stop, already pawing his nose. He had explained that he was senseless here: sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch all abandoned him to the fog. But for me, I could feel that mist enter my bones, making me strong, making me infinite. Here, I could feel the reaches of the universe.

Kizuato’s ears fell back, his tail curling low. ‘ _I leave you again at the edge of eternity,’_ he murmured, his head lowering. He turned his golden gaze on me and gave me a soft nuzzle. ‘ _I’ll see you soon, little one. We’ll be waiting.’_

I gave a soft whine of farewell and watched him turn his back and lope through the woods, returning to the pack. I faced the ancient mists and stepped into their sacred depths.

I grew lighter with every step as if my weighty flesh was dropping away. With my body went my senses. Sight, touch, smell, hearing: they were background sensations now – the buzzing of bees in an amber-streaked meadow. I let them fade without yearning. I had no need for them for I could perceive the strings now. The ones whose delicate threads weaved the pattern of reality. These strings bound the very cosmos: these string vibrated within my very soul. I could feel their essence as substantial as a thought in my mind yet unbounded from that rigidity. As I stepped deeper into the Wood, their energy was a warm spring that cascaded over my frozen body, and I was sent adrift in the currents beneath the surface of reality.

Beaming, I stretched out my hands and felt the strings tremble at my touch. It was something I had never been taught. I didn’t need to be. It was a knowledge so innate it couldn’t really be put into words: a Truth, really. Just as how a pup knew not to breathe underwater, but if I forced myself-

I stopped for a moment, my fingers sunken into the plush fabric of existence, and I let the rest of me fade. It was like standing just inside the cavern’s maw, moonlight pooling just behind me, staring at the pure ebony in front of me. I stood there, knowing that if I turned right or left, the perspective of mortals would be restored to me. Yet I didn’t: I stared straight into the emptiness beyond. Soon, it was only me and the Black. Then, that boundary disappeared as well, and I became Nothing.

That’s what those cosmic threads were really made of: Nothing.

With a thought, I plucked a familiar chord and watched those tendrils shiver and ignite the wind. I felt it curl around me, twisting around my chest and up my neck. But that was all: like breathing underwater, I knew the consequences. Any interruption would fade eventually – the universe had a way of correcting itself. But if left irritated – if I left that water in my lungs-

I coughed that water out, returning to the mouth of the cave. I steadied those strands myself, soothing them to their natural vibration. The air quieted around me; I defined myself in that Nothingness, found the outlines of my flesh and soul, and turned away.

I had asked Mother once from where these strings had all come. She had looked at me then – a long, silent stare – then turned to the one thing that seemed to handle the threads without consequence. And that’s where I was headed now. That’s where Mother waited for me. By the Sapling – the embodiment of the Nothingness itself.

‘ _A trace of those who existed long before us and will exist long after we’re gone,’_ she always murmured, tail lowering beneath its eminence. ‘ _Few reminders remain of the Kamiyonanayo – the first children of existence itself.’_

 _‘Huh, where’re they now?’_ I once asked, blinking up at the barren limbs, an eye narrowed, a brow lowered.

 _‘Asleep,’_ she rumbled, her ears falling flat, her tail swishing. ‘ _Resting. Tired from sculpting the universe. And war.’_ Despite lying on her brow, I could feel her full attention was upon me by the subtle twitching of her ear. ‘ _Man was the one who stopped them.’_

I had frowned at that, twisting my fingers in her fur. _‘Humans don’t look that strong.’_

Mother tilted her head, forcing me to grab on as a thunder rumbled through her body. Behind her chuckling, the air filled with a poignant pause, but she never did tell me the joke. In the end, she just twitched an ear, nudging my side, and strolled away.

Now, I stared up at those skeletal branches again – the backbone of these ancient, sacred grounds. In these strange woods, it was stranger still to have a cherry tree as the heaviest, crowning jewel – especially one that had failed to blossom all this time. A being whose peak disappeared into the shimmering mist above, its effervescent bones spread like veins throughout the whole wood. It was from these roots that the ethereal mist bloomed: like the tree itself, these offshoots were channels, flowing from the fabric of the upper realm, Takama-ga-hara, spilling forth spiraling shadows of an immortal land that revived those cosmic tendrils.

I chewed the insides of my cheeks, the Sapling’s strange energy tugging on my very essence as if luring me to that realm beyond. Mother had told me she too felt that pull: all kamigami did. Now more than ever as more and more of these sacred springs faded from the world. My brow knitting together, I turned away from its faint rays, if one could call that essence it gave off light.

As I strode closer to their source, those cosmic tendrils tickled my nerves. The mist grew thick around the base of the Sapling, but the world around me grew brighter: not even the mist could stop the rising sun of my Mother as I strode up to her. She once had told me that most humans couldn’t look directly at a kami: even I had trouble at first, she said, though I’d had grown used to it by then. I blinked, adjusting to her brilliance.

Though she was lying on her stomach, she still rose before me like a mountain. My neck cracked as I met her gaze, my eyes watered as I perceived her radiance. Searing flames danced upon her: searing flames of the deepest scarlets and the richest golds created intricate, shifting patterns, each destroyed as a new one emerged. An ethereal light poured from her figure, turning the night to twilight, setting the mist to a shimmer. Her fur was constantly in motion, appearing more like white, roiling clouds that barely masked a raging sun. But it was her eyes that made it so difficult. They were a scorching amber that pierced your innermost being, scrutinizing your basest self with feral hunger. But now one huge orb – a glinting topaz larger than myself – fixed upon me.

Her head lifted, her ears perked forward. At her motion, those flames frantically dashed against each other before rocking back to a soothing forth.  ‘ _Welcome back, my Mira,’_ she rumbled like thunder off the mountains. ‘ _Was the hunt successful?’_

I nodded but lowered my gaze.

Her tail swished behind her, creating a gust that nearly blew me to the floor. I dug my toes in, my nails locking into the dirt. ‘ _But you didn’t catch your own?’_

 _‘No, Mother,’_ I answered, rubbing my cheek with a shoulder. ‘ _Not yet.’_

She righted her head and beckoned me to come closer with a sniff. I blanched, knowing what would come next. I gave a soft whine, but her rose. I gulped and quickly trotted over to her. With a hot, steamy, and sticky slurp, she licked up my bare form, scraping the dirt and gore off with what felt like thousands of broken pebbles. I looked down at my bare frame, seeing my skin redden from the damage.

 _‘I cannot have you fresh from the hunt in front of Shika,’_ she murmured. A happy glint settled in her eye as she caught my expression. She let out a warm breath, the gust wrapping affectionately around me, holding me, soothing me. With me being so small, this was her form of nuzzling me.

 _It’s happening now?_ I thought. _Now?_

Quivering, I raked down the fur she lifted into a haphazard spike, setting it flat about my face with the back of my paw. A retort scrambled to my tongue, but a nervous hitch in my muscles prevented its escape. My breathing shallowed as an unwelcome shiver rolled down my spine, my foreboding intensifying. I lifted my gaze to Mother’s sharp appraisal of my nervous figure.

 _‘Mira’,_ she rumbled, ‘ _a wolf is never frighte-‘_

 _‘I’m not!’_ I snarled, my nerves snapping as my gaze met hers. I could see her pupils widen then turn to slits at this challenge. I yipped and fell to the floor, baring my stomach to her. Her rebuke vanished, and she quickly comforted me with another gentle, warm puff of air which washed over me like a summer’s breeze.

 _‘Mira, there is no need to fear,’_ she spoke, tone like an earthquake’s cadence. ‘ _You will thrive. I fear you will be too much for even the priests.’ S_ he tilted her snout, that far-off look returning to her eyes. _‘Still, this is their sacred duty as it has been for uncountable deaths and rebirths of the moon.’_

She lifted her gaze to beyond the forest, towards where the humans lived. ‘ _It is time for you to live amongst them. The old ways have become too strong with you.’_ She looked down at me, and closed her eyes, the equivalent of a toothy grin breaking her lips. ‘ _We cannot have you too wild, young pup, can we? Now, come on. The others are arriving.’_

I choked my quaking gut and forced a grin back. I gave a mock growl, charged her, and jumped onto her neck. I grabbed onto the drowning mass of white fur, ignoring that shock of pure ethereal energy bursting through me. As I climbed to the cresting peak of her neck, she gave a playful shake. I timed myself, letting go just in time for hers to launch me into the air. I yipped as I hung there for a moment above her, seeing her maneuver to catch me below. I fell onto her, sliding down the side of one of Mother’s cotton ears and bouncing harmlessly upon Mother’s downy head. Nestled between there, I could only see white in every direction, yet a quick scramble to the edge of her brows where her hair was stunted afforded me a clear view of our surroundings. Here, I could be a kami too.

As the quivering of those cosmic threads grew to a quaking, their forms manifested in the mist. The kunitsukami of this sacred grove gathered before us, their heads bowed before Mother and the Sapling. Below me, I heard the wolf-kami, Ōkami, murmur to herself that old nursery rhyme she had sung to me so long ago. ‘ _And so they gathered, their roles reversed. Mortal flesh untethered, breaking the kami’s curse.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing with this story! If you have the time, please leave a review of general feels or ConCrit. I love hearing what readers are thinking of the story!
> 
> Also, to help you out, I’ve provided a list of OCs to help you keep track of the introductions!  
> GODLESS – OCs & TERMS  
> KAMIGAMI  
> Characters  
> 1) Mother/Ōkami : wolf amatsukami  
> ________________________________________  
> CANINES
> 
> Characters
> 
> \- Wolves -  
> 1) Kizuato: alpha  
> 2) Hana: alpha/Kizuato’s mate  
> 3) Teru: oldest brother  
> 6) Ashi: older sister  
> 7) Utau: older brother  
> 8) Kegawa: packmate  
> 9) Shizuka: packmate  
> 10) Isamu: packmate


	3. Shrine Arc

My fist tightened around Mother’s fur as I fidgeted under the weight of their gazes. They were staring at me. All of them. The kamigami of the forest had gathered into a loose ring before Mother and me, all careful to avoid going to near the Sapling. Feeling my quaking, Mother twitched a muscle, reprimanding me without a word. ‘ _Wolves do not whimper_ ,’ I knew she was saying. I bit the inside of my cheek – a place recently growing more tattered – and straightened.

I stared at the foremost kamigami who stood before us. They took on the shape of their favored ones: Inoshishi the Boar, Washi the Eagle, Shika the Stag, and Fukurō the Owl. Far below my ancient Mother, they were the stronger spirits of this forest, shimmering under a weaker ephemeral flame. Behind them ranged the weaker ones – the yokai – who took on the form of strange, ghostly apparitions: some appeared human like me, but rows of sharp teeth, oversized heads, and matte horns revealed the truth. Others were as small as a leaf, the shades of summer’s shift to winter, who bobbled and clicked as they moved. Some took on flickering shades of rabbits, mice; others, people could mistake for shrubs if they didn’t notice the clawed feet scuttling about beneath.

Together, their constant movement set me before an ethereal vortex, but I wasn’t afraid of them. I had known them since before I could remember: Inoshishi taught me the importance of a good nap after a mud-bath, Shika let me swing from his antlers, Fukurō teased me with riddles, and Washi had shown me the heavens. The yokai had always been up for anything whether it be a game, contest, or prank: in truth, they were the ones who taught me all the tricks I used in order to steal food from the shrine. So no, it wasn’t them I feared.

‘ _It is time,’_ Mother announced, staring at all before us.

 _‘It is?’_ Shika began, tapping the soil with his cloven hoof, moonlit flowers twinkling into life at his touch.

Fukurō bobbed his head then twisted it completely horizontal. ‘ _Mira is ready. I doubt the human’s training will be more helpful than what I’ve taught her.’_

Mother’s muscles swayed beneath me, forcing me to hold tight, as she bared her fangs at the owl’s tactlessness. _‘This is no game, kunitsukami,’_ she growled. ‘ _There must always be_ balance _.’_

Mother’s tail flicked, rustling up a snap of wind that had the smaller yokai fumbling for balance. ‘ _Kamigami once roamed the entire world living beside and amongst the humans,’_ she spoke. ‘ _But something has changed. We have all sensed it. The life – the spirit – of this earth has dimmed.’_ She bared her fangs and fixed them with flaming topaz eye. ‘ _Kamigami cannot remain outside havens such as these woods – places connected to Takamagahara – for very long. While the light here has not begun to flicker, refugees speak of these waypoints failing around the world. This is the demise we too face if we do not act.’_

 _‘We understand, Ōkami,’_ Inoshishi grunted, his black eyes flashing around at the other kamigami. He turned towards me. ‘ _It’s just hard to-’_ He trailed off, his chest heaving as sentimentality bubbled beneath his tough hide.  

 _‘Say goodbye, Ōkami’_ Washi finished, clicking his talons upon an outcropping of stone by the Sapling’s root. He fixed a golden eye on me. ‘ _It’s been too long without humans. It’ll be hard to see Mira leave.’_

My heart dropped at those words, but I kept it from my face. I would see them again. At some point. I wasn’t being abandoned. Heat closed my throat. I wasn’t being abandoned.

Shika bowed his oaken rack of antlers. ‘ _We give you all of our blessings, young one.’_ He turned away from the Sapling. ‘ _Even here, we can feel the ravages of the storm just outside. They’ve lost their way.’_

 _‘Like they always do,’_ Washi clicked, resettling his wings.

It was then a rare wind coursed through the woods, stroking all in its path. All but the Sapling – which remained ever still – reacted with a lowering of their heads. I closed my eyes as the breeze buffeted my hair, thankful that I could hide the growing wetness.

 _‘It is time,’_ Mother murmured as if in agreement to some silent figure. The kamigami who had remained silent began to yowl and howl, offering their own words of encouragement and goodbye. The world hitched below me as Mother stood up and began to saunter away, the crowd parting before her.

I tried to force a goodbye and a thanks from my throat, but all I could muster was a silent stare at all I passed. I suppose that was the moment I would recall most. Well, I suppose I should say feeling that I would recall most. It was the first time I felt completely powerless in my own body as I stared at their faces. I would hear later that kamigami always knew what was in a human’s heart, and I hope, at least that moment, it was true. It would break my heart to accept that the time when I had last seen them, when I was unable to force any words out, they might have thought they meant nothing to me.

I remember that moment so well because, years later, I would realize something. They were immortals: I probably meant nothing to them.

We moved towards the outer edge of the Wood, my breathing growing faster and shallower with every stride. I buried my face into the thick, warm cotton that was Mother’s fur. Her muscles rolled beneath my cheek as she slipped through the woods, a white shadow. I watched her shoulder crest like a wave of snow before sinking again beneath the foamy white. Cradled in her warmth and the slow sway of her stride, I could almost imagine that this was just any other day. Almost. 

Instead, I found my mind straining to memorize the twitch of her muscles, the way her breath came in slow and steady like the waves in a lake, her very essence. I tried to memorize everything, knowing that after this – after I left her – I would change. I would become human.

My panic was broken by a soft growl. ‘ _There is no reason to fear,’_ Mother spoke, her rumble echoing in my bones. ‘ _We will see each other again, though not in this way.’_

My gut crunched, but I said nothing. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t understand why I needed to leave her or the others, but I knew Mother had her reasons. I knew there was something greater at play here – something I just _couldn’t_ see yet.

 _Maybe that’s why she’s sending me_ , I thought, burying my head into her fur. _The humans might show me what the kamigami can’t._ I won’t deny that curiosity nibbled the edge of that thought, but as the ache built behind my eyes, I knew that I didn’t care about any of it. Not really. In the end, I went for the reason any other child would: because their mother told them.

We were silent for the last few minutes – what felt like moments to me. I felt her movements slow to a halt and her weight shift as she settled on her haunches – an act that usually prompted me to slide off.  I twisted my fists into her fur, chaining myself to her warmth, her guidance. I shook as a low rumble echoed in her chest, and rose a bit as her fur bristled. There was no argument to be won here. With a grimace, I let go and slid down her back, rolling into the plush of her tail.

I pushed my way out and blinked. We were at the edge of the old wood, the mist blanketing the land. Mother’s glow afforded some definition to the ghost-world in front of us. The trees barely visible were half the size of those we were leaving: their lowest branches could brush Mother’s chest, but like many things, they seemed to shrivel back in fear.

 _‘Here?’_ I craned my neck back at Mother. My fists latched onto the grass that towered above me.

She lay down, her cheek beside my body.

 _‘Here,’_ she responded, her voice rolling through my mind like a thunderclap. ‘ _They are waiting.’_

I lifted my nose to the wind, catching the pungent scent of humanity: like heady sweat and suffocating smoke. There were subtle differences that marked individuals. There was a group of them close. They had left the shrine, and now must be at the edge of the woods.

 _‘It is time,’_ Mother repeated, continuing her gentle pushing.

I gritted my teeth, not moving an inch.

She twisted her head and blew air at me from her nostrils. As my hair flung back, I bared my teeth. ‘ _Why?’_ I both yelped and whimpered.

 _‘Though I consider you my own, you are human,’_ she answered. ‘ _You must learn their ways as well. You will be the link between our worlds. You will remind them of the kamigami they have abandoned for bloodshed.’_

My lips met in a frown as her words clattered within my skull, not feeling right where they settled. I looked to the dirt, spying a pebble amongst the ancient world of green around it. I kicked it with my toe, sending it sprawling into the younger wood; it landed with the same side facing up. I growled. ‘ _What could they know that you don’t?’_

She tilted her head, her ear flickering. ‘ _That’s the thing about humans. They know too much.’_ She looked at the younger wood, towards the scent of man. ‘ _Yet the troubling thing is that they always seem to forget. You need to remind them.’_ She looked back at me, her sharp amber eyes softening to a molten gold. ‘ _Mira, there are many things I have not been able to tell you, things that cannot be uttered in these woods. Things you will learn when you are ready. Things only mortals can truly understand.’_

I blanched and turned my gaze to the floor.

 _‘You always were curious,’_ she continued, a gentle cajoling in her tone. ‘ _Too curious and too clever by half. If you stayed in these woods, you would pick up worse habits than the yokai.’_

I looked up at her, the smile dribbling on my lips as I kept the tears locked away. I was of the wolf-clan: we did not cry.

Her ears tilted back as she moved to nuzzle me. I was enveloped in that white fur once more, and I hugged back with all of my might, burying my face into that comforting warmth. After a few moments, she poked me with her nose. I stumbled back only to be swallowed by the mist. I gained my balance and turned with a yelp, but Mother had already vanished.

My lower lip trembled, but the wetness on my cheeks only came from that mist that grew thicker, colder, and emptier.  Still, I lowered my head and whispered, ‘ _Goodbye, Mother.’_

Shaking the dewdrops off my skin, I turned to the smell of man and wrinkled my nose. _Just take a step, Mira,_ my conscience urged. And I did. One away from the smell of man. I scuttled in the mist and emerged in the younger forest as guilt hobbled my steps but fear urged me on. I blinked as I regained the use of sight only for my breath to hitch as the figures loomed around me. Kizuato and his pack were there, sitting and waiting. I wasn’t surprised that Mother had summoned them: I was already about to run off and sulk. With my fellow pack watching, I couldn’t do that now.

 _‘Welcome back, Mira,’_ Kizuato murmured, his whiskers flicking. ‘ _The weeks have been long without you.’_

I grunted a shallow, distracted greeting as I joined them. As a pack, we began to trot towards the priests. I wrinkled my nose as the smell of the men became stronger. I knew it was only worse at the shrine. I would probably have to stuff flowers under my nose to keep from retching all the time. _I’ll probably have to wear their weird furs,_ I thought too, apprehension brooding dislike within me. _I’ll have to make their weird noises, dig with their weird branch, and yank up that weird tree stump from that hole._

We stopped on a crest above them, out of their sight but with them well within ours. I settled onto my stomach then, crawling closer. There were four of them, each figure wrapped in what wasn’t their skin. Three bulkier figures with headier scents – males. One slender, gracile thing with a lighter stench that was female: somehow, she seemed to be carrying fire – a feat which made my hackles rise. They were talking with one another in that strange, lyrical tongue. They were arranged around the alpha – the shortest man who was hunched over and fragile with age. They kept plying him with long, hushed noises, yet he only replied with soft, curt tones. Out of all of us figures in the woods, he seemed the only one at peace; his eyes never left the forest – a patch of woods a distant right of us.

The wolves beside me were tense but curious as they stared down at the men, this being the closest they had ever gotten. It was some unspoken agreement between the two never to bother the other, never to enter the other’s territory. I was the only one who had dared to enter their shrine willingly. I had wheedled Teru once or twice, and he always got a snap or two when he returned.

 _‘Strange,’_ Ashi commented with a flick of her ear. ‘ _How’re they walking like that?’_ She remained frozen except for her tail. It was twitching behind her. She was ready for anything.

I kept my muscles unclenched. I rose no hackles, made no growls. I could not show weakness in front of the pack: I was not just a wolf, but the pup of the wolf-kami, of Ōkami. I turned towards the others and gave a dip of my head in thanks and goodbye. I walked down the crest, only rising into full view when I knew the pack was safe. I raised my figure out of the underbrush, appearing in full view of the priests. In true human fashion, none of them saw me.

From this distance, I could appraise the alpha more clearly. He had his arms by his side, with his flesh were covered by that odd, black wrapping – that faux-fur. His feet were similarly encased in a different, thicker looking material. He had tied a white vine across his stomach, and I could see the roll of a large belly beneath it. There were light wrinkles in a face that was entirely bald, save for an incredibly thick set of smooth, silver whiskers that trailed onto his chest. His cheeks were red – I expect from the cold wind that was blowing – but there was a light turn at the corner of his lips. He wasn’t growling. No, his shoulders were relaxed, his stance was confident – he was content. Yet his eyes were a fierce shade of green – as dark as emerald. He reminded me of Hana.

My fear loosened its grip.

Two of the others behind him fidgeted, lines etched into their brows. It was the female – barely visible beneath a thick layer of that faux-fur – and the male with hair the color of a dying dandelion. They kept peering into the darkness, completely ignorant that the light at their side blinded them to whatever was outside its reach.

They’re gawky appearance appeared like an extreme of the pups, Ashi and Teru. I relaxed further.

The other male, however, kept still. His black hair was thicker, longer – nearly covering the scar that rose from the side of his neck and up, past the back of his ear. There was no look of contentment on that face – no peace as his gaze pierced the woods. He stood the furthest from the rest, remaining at the edge of the light. Staring directly at me, his was the gaze that I first met. In fact, I had the feeling he had been watching us all this time.

I cocked my head at him, curious as to why he hadn’t alerted the others. I looked at their alpha, one whose lips began to toy with the idea of a smile. He made a curious combination of sounds, and the scarred man gave a nod; the other two then jumped closer together, heads swiveling at the darkness.

 _It’s time,_ I told myself. Conscious of my brethren behind me, I tried to strike a worthy figure as I strode towards them.

I didn’t know what they were saying at that time. How could I have? I just remember the younger ones’ shrill shouts as I came into view. The alpha tried to get them into order while the scarred one simply appraised me, a blank expression all the while. The alpha turned around and crouched down to my level. He reached out to me. I swear, I could see my humanity in his palm. The curious thing is, I never remember taking it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *stretches* Now we're settling into the plot. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did and have the time, please leave a review so I can hear your thoughts. ConCrit and general feels highly encouraged!


	4. Shrine Arc

I kept my head down. It was too exposed out here. I could feel their eyes on me, could feel their suspicion and anxiety settle upon my shoulders.  A bitter wind kept snapping at my skin, first leaving me raw then numb. The alpha strode at my side, a strange lilt to his arthritic step. He kept peering down at me making a weird sort of chortle in his throat. His eyes were bright, happy even, and they regarded me in such a familiar way as if we were packmates reuniting after a long, lonely scout.

I didn’t like it. I stared, or probably more accurately glared, back at his cheerful form.

 I scowled back at the blonde man and the girl shivering. It seemed that despite their fake-fur, the elements were getting to them. Then I noticed that their eyes were nearly white, their knuckles so pale as if the skin had peeled back to reveal bone, their balled hands shaking: they weren’t cold, they were afraid.

I started clacking my teeth, peering at the scarred one. He trailed behind me as if he was just out for a stroll. There was no sign of him even feeling the ground, much less the cold: he seemed to glide through space rather than walk like the rest of us mortals. I caught his eye – his matte black eye – and waited. He didn’t turn his gaze: he didn’t begin snarling. In the wolf’s world, this would be us challenging the other; in the human, it felt like we were declaring ourselves equals, peers to be acknowledged.

_I’ll have to watch him,_ I considered, catching a small movement at the corner of his mouth. I slowly turned my attention in front of me, still feeling his gaze gnawing at the back of my neck. Just in case, I began to grind my teeth, sharpening them in case of a fight to come.

I jumped as a weight dropped over my shoulders but realized the alpha had only draped one of his fake-furs over me. I sputtered and gagged at the scent, leaping out of it. I just barely reigned in a snarl as I whirled on the man, only halted by the look in his eyes. It was like when Mother had fussed over me after I had torn up my arm: her eyes had been filled with that same completely selfless concern. Wanting to snarl but unsure of myself, wanting to run but too proud, I picked my pace up into a light jog, ranging out ahead of the group.

The alpha began to make those strange noises. His voice wasn’t like the others: no, he didn’t make those gargling barks. His voice was softer, weaker – age having carved his deep baritone to remind one of the wind brushing past leaves rather than barreling through canyons. He glanced down at me, but his conversation was obviously directed at his pack. Whatever he said, there was no obvious effect. The tension was still in the air, only now bristling beneath a hazy layer of normality.

My nails dug into the earth, some subconscious part of me attempting to set anchor. Yet I continued our slow trudge through an underbrush that grew weaker and weaker. The plants were more and more stunted, the grass barely reached my shoulders now. The smell of the forest succumbed to the sharp scent of the shrine. Even colors themselves died around me – the world now washed out with a muted palette. Instead of burgeoning life, everything here smelt tired, drowsy as if the woods had succumbed to the lifeless air.

My brow furrowed as I tucked my chin down. I could sense it without such signs. With each step away from the ancient wood, those celestial strings grew weaker, more diffuse – still alive, still rippling as they lay entombed within existence. If I reached them here – if I gouged my way to that Nothingness – and plucked them, reality would quake as they trembled.

I wrinkled my nose as one of my greatest gifts diminished as we came upon the shrine. We walked along the human’s path now – one slightly worn but sharply redolent of their presence. I glared up at the priest. His happy glow was still there, and, if anything, he was shining brighter than before. His silver whiskers fluttered in the wind, revealing a slight smile playing about his lips.

We reached the shrine’s entrance, two white wooden logs with a third slung curiously across their tops. The logs were met on their opposite sides by a thin wall which swayed slightly as a breeze hacked at its foundations. Though it was easiest to enter here – being an entirely unguarded entrance in an otherwise walled territory – I had never approached this way before. For my thefts, I had dug a tunnel beside the pond and used the foliage there to sneak through their territory. The humans passed under it without a care, but I stopped to appreciate the fine groove and ornate carvings of the white, roofed gate. More than anything, it was entering through here that made me realize my situation.

The woman gave a small cough, drawing my attention. They had gathered in front of the entrance to their first building. The blonde one held the door open, revealing a lit room inside. Warmth poured out of it, but for every reason I hesitated.

_I’m a wolf. I’m not afraid._ Gnawing my cheek, I trotted inside.

The rest gathered in behind me and stamped their paws and yanked off layers of that fake-fur. Meanwhile, I was utterly stricken: the explosion of scents made me retch, and I found my limbs wobbling as I lifted myself out of my collapse. I heard them muttering behind me – a tinge of worry in their tones – but none of them approached.

Panting and desperate for reprieve, I twisted towards the door. Of course, the blonde one had already shut it. _Useless,_ I labeled him in a scratchy whine. I twisted back around, taking in the cramped room. I had no idea what I was looking at – four limbed thing made of wood everywhere – but judging by the odors it must have been where they ate.

I groaned, feeling a pain pulsing against my skull. The last time anything had felt this bad was when I had accidentally snorted a wasp. All the scents were crowded against my nostrils, battling one another for their chance to assault my senses. But one muscled the others out of the way. One made my head flip up, my eyes narrow, and a growl to rumble from my chest. _Smoke._

I hustled around the room, my paws skidding on the smooth wood. Rounding a corner of one of those larger human’s objects, I saw the pit of smoldering embers. The female – revealed to be a thin, waif-like and pale creature – was bent over the flickering flames, adding on more dead branches.

I leapt towards the fire, driving the woman away as the oaky scent grew even stronger from the fresh fuel. The female yelped and dove away, shielding her throat, but I ignored her. My lips hiked up over my fangs as I whined, shifting my weight from paw to paw. I glanced back at the priests, watching them gasp and stare at me. Even the scarred one had widened his eyes. I wrinkled my snout at them, warning them back with a growl.

I lowered my paw as I considered how it had been like this last time too. That time when lightning had struck dry twigs, sparking fire just beside where my brothers, sister and I were tussling. Greedily, the fire had snapped and hissed, trying to conquer the wet territory around it but only succeeding in creating a single, viable flame. The other pups had instinctively slunk away, wary  of the heat as all beings are. But I approached. Not without some of my own fear, not out of simple curiosity, but of one overriding feeling: hatred.

It was then that the woman snapped. There was no firmness in her stance nor in her voice as she exclaimed a flood of syllables that I had no hope of understanding. She made a lot of grand gestures with oddly petite paws with most of them pointing to me. The other men stared at her, glancing occasionally to the alpha who simply nodded along pacifyingly.

But she wasn’t a threat. She was older than I realized, easily the oldest after the alpha. Folds of skin rested alongside her murky blue eyes and just above her shapely brows; her paws had long since sported that worn-yet-soft look. Her salty hair was thick and trailed down to the nape of her back, yet it lost its youthful luster. She had a thin frame beneath it all but held an air about her of not being shy when it came down to physicality, but my youth would assure my victory in any fight.

Recognizing that I wasn’t in danger, I turned my attention back towards the true threat. The orange flames were swiftly maturing. I watched them grow, pulsing as they savagely bit into the dead bark. They swarmed the branches like carrion and did their duties just as efficiently. I had once thought it was a living creature, but Mother explained it to me, telling me how man relied so fiercely upon it. I didn’t understand why – _how_ they could trust this monster.

I reached out a paw, fingers extended to crush the flames and–

“No!” the woman’s shrill voice barked – the tone of which led me realize its meaning.

 I jumped back, snatching my hand back from the flames, and watched her. I didn’t need to understand their language – her tone was enough for me to know it was a rebuke. Assessing that she wasn’t going to attack me, I tossed a scathing glance at the fire.

‘ _You can live,’_ I snapped at it. _‘For now.’_

I turned back to the humans only to realize that the alpha was asserting himself. Without the usual clashing of fangs or booming roars, I hadn’t even realized he was doing so. He did it in a calm way, no threat in his manners yet the weight of his authority still visibly shoved her back into her place. His eyes turned on me, and the next thing I knew was that he was shuffling over towards me, cooing phrases like a hyperactive owl.

I started to bare my fangs when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rest of the priests tense up.  I stopped, noting the scarred one’s step forward. The alpha dropped to his knees and shuffled forward towards me – all the while making those noises. I stayed completely still, millions of scenarios bursting through my mind; a good number of them had me mauling him just to make him stop those sounds. Yet I acted on none of them.

He stopped a foot away from me. It took a hunter’s eyes to see that he was quaking, though it wasn’t because of me. There was no fear in those green eyes.  Only pain.

I lowered my gaze to the floor, only for him to reach out with some dark brown thing on his palm. Habit made me take a cautious sniff, but I wouldn’t have been able to smell it anyway. _Don’t be outdone by a human,_ I snarled at myself, beginning to combat my own trembling spirit.

Cautiously, slowly, I shuffled a few inches forward and gently lifted the object with my teeth. I yipped when it melted in my mouth, but all fears were swept aside as a tsunami of delicious creamy sweetness overtook my mouth.

_Food,_ I realized, slowly beginning to nibble at its edge.

The alpha, beaming, gestured towards the treat. He started to make weird sounds, and I tilted my head as he repeated his actions.

“Choke-oh-let,” he slowly clicked out. At least, that’s what I heard.

I looked down at the thing nestled between my paws and back at him. I worked my mouth, my tongue too heavy to properly execute the task. “Choo-ca-law,” I parroted back at him, only to dive back into the sugary goodness wrapping my soul.

I was still licking my hands after I’d devoured everything, hoping that I’d find an escaped sweet nib when my energy went from manic to empty. Before I realized it, an exhausted body, a full stomach and the bone-thawing heat soothed me into a doze as the sugar left my system. Curled into a ball, I blearily watched the humans putter about the room, shaking this thing or cutting that. Fresh scents filled the air, making me unconsciously salivate. The woman noticed and paused beside me. With a shaking hand, she offered me a portion of the white root she had been carrying.

I sniffed it, more polite than curious, before returning back to my doze. I hated roots: it would be a long time before I ate one willingly.

The priests settled around a raised platform set into the ground, having arranged their dishes there as well. After fixing their own meals, at some unspoken countdown, they all lifted their portions into the air and exclaimed a jumbled bunch of syllables. They ate their food oddly – using small, straight sticks instead of just their mouths. I supposed instruction about those sticks would come soon enough.

I must’ve fallen asleep as I awoke to the light jostling of footsteps. I yawned and, for a second thinking I was with Mother, nuzzled into the figure holding me. Her light gasp broke the haze, and with a yelp I struggled out of her arms. I landed onto the floor with a thud and scampered to a corner. Crouched there, I turned towards her, my stomach low to the ground.

Looking around, I could see she had taken me into her den. Even with my deadened nose, I still knew that this room stank of her. Everything in it seemed worn from daily use, and the objects within it seemed to just _fit_ her; they all had this flowery, graceful pattern that I had come to associate with her. The mat in the center was rather plain, but I could see an indentation in it from where she must sleep. Beside it lay a second mat of equal size yet completely unused.

 I pulled up out of my crouch, the initial shock wearing off, and looked at her. She had a hand over her mouth and was trembling like a leaf in the wind. I cocked my head, watching as her cheeks grow red. Tears trailed down them, trying to soothe their burn. She buried her face in her hands, and dropped to her knees, all the while remaining silent. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew it had something to do with me.

_Maybe I hurt her?_ I realized as guilt and apprehension flooded through me. Fear cascaded over me as I considered what the other humans would do if they found out. Immediately, I dropped my stomach to the floor and crawled up to her, head low. Reaching her lap, I twisted over onto my stomach and nudged her with a paw.

She looked down at me, her watery eyes widening and drying with shock. Her lips cracked as various emotions vied for control, finally allowing a tired laugh escape her throat. She lunged for me, but didn’t pull away at my startled yelp. She lifted me onto my shaky hindlegs, and nuzzled me, nearly choking me as she soaked me with her tears.

I took it all in with silence, and when she finally pulled away, she laughed at my bedraggled glare. She cooed all those syllables again, pushing back my fur from my face, and rubbing the thickest of the dirt patches off me. She kept repeating the sound ‘bath,’ but I couldn’t understand her; all I got was a sense of foreboding.

It was a while before she motioned towards the second mat. Understanding at least this, I lay down on it with a light ‘umph.’ I sprawled out as I watched her move about the room, cleaning up the dirt and then rummaging in some storage area. She was carrying large swaths of that fake-fur when she came back and plopped them down beside me. She picked one up – a rectangular one as large as a leaf of the Ancient Wood – and then placed it over me, tucking in the corner beneath the mat. I hyperventilated but reigned in any instincts so that I didn’t hurt her again.

It was only after she bopped me on the forehead and left the room, shutting the thin sliding door behind her that I exploded out of the sheets. I paced around the room, shaking my limbs to assure them that they were no longer trapped.

I inspected what seemed to be my new den – a cozy little thing if it had not been for her overpowering aroma. She kept it clean and neat, though that seemed to be an easy feat as it was rather empty. There were those beds, a pile of those horrid fake-furs that seemed to be for me, some complicated human objects that I dared not approach, and a thing in the corner that showed my reflection like a vertical of clear water. I was interested in the last the most, jumping around in front of it but grew bored quickly.

I circled to the window and peered out of it, looking around the walled-off grounds and then out towards the void beyond. I could see nothing of the forest; at least, not tonight. The moon had lost its throne, overtaken by a charging column of clouds. I could feel the electricity on the wind, smell the approaching hail.

I wrinkled my nose and, after some time, dropped off the windowsill. I looked at the roof above me and determined it was a good shelter for the approaching storm. I jumped back onto my bed and rolled onto my back. And then rolled onto my stomach. And then stretched. And then curled into a ball. A soft whine scraped its way out of my throat. _It’s not Mother._ My stomach felt empty though I had just eaten. I felt restless even though I was exhausted. My lip kept quivering. I felt hot pinpricks at the corners of my eyes, but I growled and scratched them away.

_I’m a wolf,_ I reminded myself. _Wolves do not cry._

I lay there awhile, trying to wrestle my thoughts and emotions back into working order. After managing that lengthy feat, I sat up once more, thinking of what to do. The night was still young with the wolf’s hour barely begun. With nothing in my room to occupy myself, I plodded to the door and opened it as I had seen the female do. It gave way with a loathsome creak that made me paw at my ears, but I nosed it open further and stepped onto the landing.

I had never been inside this building before, and I had always been curious when I was younger. I was surprised at its simplicity with the main room empty yet cleanly swept. By its open structure, it seemed to be a gathering place though it also seemed to be seldom used. Decorations lined the walls, but I approached only the largest statue in the center.

I halted a few feet before it and looked up at the figure before me. It was made of a white, polished stone that I had never seen before. The candles placed beside it created a sense of flame that raced along the smooth rock. Though I was unable to read the words, I recognized the statue that was framed by pine branches and wildflowers. _It barely looks like her,_ I grouched as I peered at Mother’s figure. _The eyes are all wrong._

Still, I gave a soft whine as my heart ached. I sniffed, trying to hold back tears, and the scent of ash and flame coated my nostrils. Desperate for the distraction, I moved towards the eating area hoping that being knocked senseless by the odors would help. However, my ears perked as I heard low, rapid speech. A mixture of apathy and not being unable to understand, dampened my hesitation at intruding.

 I maneuvered into the room, and, without looking at the priests still gathered around the table, I plodded over to the fire, hoping its smoke would numb me. They had gone silent, thinking that I hadn’t noticed them. I left them this fantasy as I settled before the hearth and stared at flames which had dampened to an icy blue, that familiar revulsion filling me. I cocked my head at the fire, listening to the creaking of the wood which sacrificed itself to the rapacious blaze. The heat washed over me, a comforting though fickle sort of thing. The heady scent of ashes filled my mouth, and I swallowed once, twice but it didn’t leave. The light played about the stones, twisting shadows this way and that.

_‘I’m back,’_ I growled at it.

I closed my eyes, trying to bury beneath reality. I lost myself to the darkness, focusing on those threads of flame. They seemed so happy, hopping to a chaotic tune and bouncing off the other strings. I bopped along with them, trying to pick up their rhythm, stalking their movements. I needed to be careful: this’d hurt me otherwise. When I had just got it right, I tried to twist them myself, recognizing the horrendous weight now added to them in this reality. Struggling, I tried directing them with a thought, and before me the flames meekly followed, only looking as if they were caressed by a butterfly’s flap.

The fire didn’t die.

Growling, I thrust my paw into the flames, intending to strangle them myself. There were bangs, gasps, yelps as the humans jumped to their feet. I turned, staring at each of them slowly, meeting their frightened gazes until they fell back in their chairs. Only the alpha had remained seated, watching me with those sparkling eyes, arms crossed over his chest, a smile playing about his lips. I locked eyes with him as I removed my paw from the fire.

There were further gasps as the blonde one pointed at my paw. I looked down at it, curious to why he seemed so shocked. All ten fingers still there, all skin left completely unharmed. _Managed that much at least._ I shook my head, snarling at the crackling fire only to sniff as a liquid trickled out of my nose. I rubbed it with my forearm, surprised that it came away with fresh blood. _Back at that stage, are we?_ I griped, turning towards the door to the shrine’s grounds.

I swiped at it, but it didn’t open like the other door. However, a calloused hand appeared and shoved it open. I looked up, locking eyes with the scarred man. Though he was as blank as ever, I could tell that he was smiling.

I tilted my head at him, yipped a thanks. I trekked out of the room, not giving the group another look though I could feel the weight of their gazes upon me. I was curious to explore the rest of the shrine’s grounds, hoping to find something else to distract me. Yet as the door swung shut, I heard them whisper something to each other: something they would keep repeating as I grew up. After I picked up the language, I finally understood.

“What is she?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you readers enjoyed the new chapter! If you have the time, please leave a review whether it be ConCrit or general feels as I love hearing from you all!


	5. Chapter 5

Time seemed to speed up then. Maybe it actually had. Over the years, I had begun to suspect that time worked differently in the realm of the kamigami. I told the priests as much when they asked my age. After trying to figure out some form of measurement – as wolves don’t even count time – I said I had seen hundreds of reborn moons.

“Well, Mira,” Yori said, shoving his blonde hair back from his face, “you looked three when you first got here.”

“A wolf’s an adult when they’re three,” I replied, sealing a crack in the tamagaki wall surrounding the main shrine.

Though moments like that stand out in my memory, everything else was a content blur, moments like still stand out to me. I remember even debating whether they had drugged me with all the food they stuffed me with. Everything was just so new now and so fast that I barely had time to register everything. All that time was a haze really – a dream whose beauty I only realized when I was woken by reality.

We kept to our own the first few weeks. We weren’t _afraid_ of each other. More like cautious. I could see them watch me from the corners of their eyes, but it wasn’t hostile – at least, not entirely so. I really didn’t mind the space though. In those first few months, I was just too overwhelmed. I didn’t know what these humans were saying, but their voices were loud, their tones cacophonous. I figured I could ride out the whole thing like this until Mother called me home. The thing is, she never did.

Eventually, I found myself trailing Master Yūta, the gūji of the shrine, our frail, high priest In my translation, our alpha.

Aside from his wisdom, perhaps his greatest trait was his patience. Master Yūta spoke to me slowly, gently as a father would to a pup. I couldn’t understand him of course, but I soon began to pick up certain names, certain phrases. He said ‘miko’ a lot when pointing at me, and soon the others began to call me ‘miko’ as well. When I realized that’s what they had named me, I frowned and growled back the closest approximation to my name as I could. “Mira” was what came out. I still remember how Azūmi dropped her chopsticks. The way the whole dinner table stared at me.

I hated the way they stared.

That was my first lesson. Shut up until you know what’s happening. That’s probably what led to   Azūmi to later say Yori thought I was shy. She said she knew better. “You had a _glint_ in my eyes. I knew you had your opinions, were just figuring things out. Some days, you talk so much I wish you were shy.”

Though I’d gotten my point across that dinner, ‘Miko’ became an annoying nickname. Yori especially took to it when I finally began my training as a shrine priestess. Well, technically miko training. I already knew about the kamigami – better than the priests even – but I didn’t know the specific rituals. Honestly, it was probably training me to be more human than anything.

It took a few moons, but I soon settled into the rhythm of the shrine. Every day, Master Yūta took me into his pantry-turned-study, a nook just off the kitchen. There, I spent nearly all my time for the first few months to learn the basics of human language. After I achieved basic verbs and nouns, it was reduced to every morning and evening after our meals. I would always lumber into the study, my belly bursting after a hearty feast, my eyes already closing for sleep. Yet every time, Master Yūta gave me a quick tap on my head and usher me into the seat across his desk. There, I would roll onto the cushions, sprawling my limbs as I attempted a weak human smile.

That’s where I met my first agonizing hurdles of humanization: Japanese. Master Yūta was always patient as he taught me to read and speak the language. He needed to be. My initial reaction to hard words was a frustrated snarl. However, he’d always manage to soothe me with that light tap on the head – his form of rebuke and encouragement. Soon, I learned the names of things: my paws were hands, my fur was hair, my fangs mere teeth. Eventually, I could finally ask my own questions.

“What is this?” I gurgled out, still slipping over the consonants. I shoved the book cover’s image in front of him. I had picked it up from his desk – a heavily worn leather work that was handwritten.

He frowned, staring at the image of a fierce battle.  “Ah, Master Hideyoshi’s work,” he answered slowly, clearly. “He was a priest at this shrine long ago.” He took the work from my hands and flipped through the pages. “He was fascinated by the old legends and wrote them down in this very journal.” He peered up at me from behind his thick reading glasses. “He was particularly fascinated by the Sage of the Six Paths.” His eyes hardening, his ever-present smile weakening beneath those silver whiskers. “Did Ōkami ever tell you about him?”

I shook my head.

He gave a small ‘hmm’, opened the book to a page, and handed it back to me. “Read the first passage aloud.”

I frowned. These texts were usually tiresome, repeating knowledge I already knew or just getting them plain wrong. But why hadn’t I heard about this supposed Sage? I chewed on a lip, glad that at least the author had a clear hand, and began to haltingly read from the top. “It is hard to discover the truth about this figure. Though all legends agree that he saved humanity from the wrath of the Ten Tails – a creature some claimed to be chakra incarnate or even the creator of the earth.”

I stopped, squinting at the symbols to make sure I had read them right. I looked up at Master Yūta and asked, “Chakra?”

He nodded, watching me carefully. “That’s correct.”

“What’s that?” I asked, glancing down at the word again.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Many scholars have speculated about its true nature, though no theory has been accepted. At first, most considered the power only legendary – of the Tailed Beasts. It is said the first human to mold chakra was born with the power, but others claim that he was taught by someone. I suppose we may never know.” He toyed with his whiskers. “But I believe that chakra is simply another name for ‘musubi’. The power which resides both in the kamigami and humans.”

I scratched at my nose, deciding that ‘musubi’ must be the human’s name for the essence so innate, it needed none: the title of the universal threads that wove the fabric of existence. I sniffed. _Typical humans categorizing everything._ I glanced down at the book, the other questions bubbling up. “What’s Tailed Beasts? What’s Ten Tails?”

Master Yūta rubbed his chin. “We’re traveling into the territory of the shinobi now. Those recluses obviously don’t let this information spread outside their circles much, but I do know that Tailed Beasts are beings of great power and great destruction. Some priests believe that they are actually the most powerful of the kunitsukami.”

_Kami of the earthly realm_? I turned over in my mind. _So they’re like Shika-san?_ I frowned, my lips pursing at that thought and all the questions it suddenly brought up, all the doubts it suddenly created. _Why could these Tailed Beasts roam freely while the other kamigami and even an amatsukami like Mother remain in places like the Ancient Wood? What makes them so special?_ Shaking my head, I mumbled through my confusion, “And what’s Ten Tails?”

Master Yūta gave a light roll of his shoulders. “That passage is the only time I’ve heard of it. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Creator of the earth,” I mumbled to myself, reading it again as my brow furrowed. _But it can’t be Izanagi or Izanami. They’re the creation kamigami of the Kamiyonanayo._ I considered their sad tale and shook my head again. _No, no. If those stories are true, those kamigami have long since disappeared._ I considered the other possibilities for a moment – if this ‘Ten Tails’ could truly be a kami – and I cocked my head. _Maybe it’s one of the other amatsukami – the kamigami of the heavenly realm._ _Though I doubt it. Such great kamigami would be living in the Upper Realms, Takamagahara._ I wrinkled my nose, beginning to doubt the whole theory.

Master Yūta opened his mouth to explain further, but there was a soft knock on the door. Azūmi, opened it and stepped in. “Bath time!” she cheerily announced. I blanched and dove for the door, trying to escape before she nearly drowned me again. Her age surprised me again: for some reason, time had not stolen her reflexes. She gathered me in her soft, doughy arms – her age not sapping her strength either.

“Mira,” Master Yūta admonished, “there are things to learn outside of books. We can talk later.”

I was pulled out of the room by the scruff of my neck, my feet squeaking as I tried to grip the floor. Now that I can look back, I give nearly all credit to Azūmi for taming me. She was the only one there whose determination – or rather _strictness_ – could teach me to be human. I was used to the rigid formalities of a pack, but this woman was on a whole other level. While I had been able to get away with most of my tricks and pranks with the wolves, she always seemed to know what I was going to do before I even had the inkling to do it. “Don’t even think about it,” she’d say when she caught me eyeing the raked pile of leaves, the freshly baked bowls of rice, or the mud puddles after a morning rain.  We'd stare at each other, a showdown that quirked our lips beneath glinting eyes – a showdown I usually lost in a tangle of flailing limbs, my guffawing, and her huffing.

I never asked her, but I had a feeling that her apparent clairvoyance was built upon a youth more devious than mine - a youth whose misdirection somehow led to this hard outer shell. I learned over time about her complicated role of pseudo-miko at the shrine: she performed the perfunctory ceremonies but, for reasons they seemed too embarrassed to discuss with me, she couldn't be a true priestess. However, she did have the childhood training and since she was the only female there, she had argued that I should be directly under her care – hence her tirade when I first arrived.

 “You need to learn how to be a woman, too,” she always commented as she rubbed my back raw in the bath. “Not just a miko.” 

I’d usually just grumble under my breath before trying – and failing – in a bolt for freedom.

Baths weren’t the worst of it though. Living with her, she woke me up at the crack of dawn to start the morning’s process. She’d admonish me for my eternally scratched and bruised skin, half-teasing half-chiding that she couldn’t tell the difference between my tan skin and mud sometimes. She would rub some fragrant lotion over me, making me flinch at its coolness in a chilly morning while she professed that it would soften my weatherworn skin and protect me from the sun. I would always sit there as still as a rabbit under a hawk’s hungry gaze. I had hoped by doing that she wouldn’t catch onto my ultimate weakness, but my actions just ensured it.

“Why so stiff?” she asked as she wiped the excess off on her own forearms. Her lips quirked as I stood up, the pent-up sigh escaping my chest as my shoulders slumped in relief. Too relieved for awareness, I didn’t catch her fingers darting to poke my side like Ashi’s playful nips.

I leaped into the air, yelping as my nerves sent electric tingles throughout my body. I landed on my toes, leaping back from her with a scowl as I ducked low, protecting my sides.

Her wide eyes only grew wider as a serpent’s grin slid across her face. “You’re ticklish?” she asked. “ _You_ are ticklish?” She raised her palms, her fingers wriggling as she approached me with slow steps.

The color drained from my face, and I sprinted out of our room, still unclothed. Her manic cackled followed me as I flew past Yori’s stunned gaze and dove out the door. The cackling duo ended up having to coax me down from the tree outside, baiting me with promises of restraint and chocolate as Master Yūta and Akio laughed in the background. I kept a suspicious distance from Yori and Azūmi for weeks after, but eventually, their ambushes died down.

 I was still young enough then – or at least wild enough – to still slough off my clothes at any given opportunity. After that event, however, Azūmi had warned that would be the last time I’d run out of my room naked. “You have to be presentable in case anyone comes, Mira,” she’d coo, that grandmotherly smile a mask for the drill sergeant beneath. “Now here. Let’s put these on.”

She would help me into some of her old clothes she had expertly fixed to my size, yanking my limbs through the large holes of my uniform: a hakama with a white top and red bottoms. After tearing several into nearly irreparable states, she had forced me to learn how to sew them back together myself – threatening sugar deprivation if she caught me with a tear. After seeing that I then spent nearly all my time repairing them, she altered the outfits – making them stronger, tighter, easier to run around in.

I still didn’t like them.

Yet the struggle of the faux-fur was only a taste of the worst human life had to offer. My daily torture came when she would take me to the mirror and rake a comb through matted, frizzy, sunbaked hair, always crooning “Such a beautiful golden auburn! Such a beautiful little girl! You’ll grow up and break men’s hearts!” She’d then prattle on about high cheekbones, dark brows, and heart-shaped face: naturally, I didn’t really listen, let alone care. I would glare but manage to stifle the growl: Mother’s and Hana’s babying moments had taught me not to struggle. When she finished, my jaw was always aching from gritting my teeth so hard – I learned quickly that brushes meant pain.

After all that, the morning rituals took place: cleansing, adoration, offering, and prayer. My initial homesickness had dampened any curiosity or enthusiasm, but eventually, I actually became interested in what they were saying. They seemed to recognize the spirituality of the forest, calling it a ‘shintai’, showing a similar respect the kamigami showed to the Sapling: eventually, I just conflated the two in my mind. In their prayers, they beseeched the kamigami and asked for the usual benevolence and blessings. They seemed to recognize Mother as the chief spirit which I thought was a bit odd, but I never asked them why. My soul was too busy aching when they mentioned her name, and years later, I realized that not even time could dull it.

By the time morning prayer was over, I was ravenous. I’d just demolish the food Yori had made for breakfast. The priests called my eating style ‘wolfing it down,’ and despite their laughter about it, Azūmi deemed it improper. “Chew!” she’d always command. So I struggled there, starving myself to death as I could never just get those damn chopsticks to hold anything. When no one was looking, I usually stuffed handfuls of the plate into my mouth though Azūmi proved to be a worthy foe – more often than not, I was reprimanded with a sharp bop on the head or an electric jab below the ribs.

Despite struggling for every morsel of food, over time I noticed myself growing thicker, stronger with this new diet. I knew the others had noticed it too when Yori stopped joking that I looked like a bobblehead doll, though he never did explain what that was. Now, my chubby cheeks more or less matched the frame beneath it, and Azūmi could only remark that I looked “absolutely pinch-able with all that baby fat on me.” When she approached me with those wrinkled pincers, I took it as my cue to sprint to the closest shelter whether it be under the table or a tree outside.  

After breakfast were my usual language and religious lessons with Master Yūta with those being followed by an hour’s mental break. I’d trot outside, head aching with knowledge, and clamber up the weeping willow by the pond. I’d settle in the heavy branch overhanging the water and just _be_. Sometimes I’d watch the koi fish lazily work their way through the currents, the wind-scattered reflections of the clouds drifting lazily over them. Other times, I’d settle back and read a book as my toes tapped the cool water, the leaves offering me shade, solitude and, when the wind rose, soft music as well.

If the lazy mood didn’t strike me, I’d join Akio as he fixed up the building. I don’t know how our friendship formed: I don’t remember who sat next to who initially, though I suppose it must’ve been me since I couldn’t really see him doing anything of the sort. Though withered with crow’s feet and salty hair, he was the youngest of the adults.  While he wasn’t annoyed or frustrated in others’ company, he kept to himself most of the time. I probably initially liked him so much because there was no need to struggle through Japanese with him. That didn’t mean he never spoke: I learned a few words from him, generally when he stubbed a toe and shouted something that sounded like “Fuh-ckuh”.

I’d help him when I could – usually just handing him things – until he’d stop after a while, welcoming my company as a break from his work. Built like a bear, he was also as hairy as one with curly hair lining his chin, cheeks, and arms. When working, he had to clip back his charcoal bangs, revealing a scar that traced its way from his shoulder to his ear. Though I was curious, I never asked him how he got it. In fact, I never asked him really anything. We didn’t need any words in our simple companionship. I’d always just sit beside him and watch him hunch over and whittle away at a piece of wood, guessing what he was creating. Upon seeing my interest, he’d always toss me whatever he had finished: in my little corner of the room, I already had a collection of various animals and houses. He even had made a little me with wolf’s ears and a tail.

Yori would then call us in for lunchtime where there was another installment of the eternal war with the chopsticks as the adults spoke of general matters. Initially, all the priests would do is ask me about the ancient wood, but they soon stopped upon realizing they were only worsening my homesickness. Besides, whatever I did tell them, I could see them having a hard time believing it. Only Master Yūta seemed to understand what I was saying as he bobbed his head at my words, a content smile brightening his frame, though Yori muttered something about ‘senility’ on occasion.

_So much for reminding man of the kamigami,_ I always thought. _Even the priests don’t believe me._

“So,” Yori began again, rubbing his cheek, “the all-powerful kamigami hold meetings around a tiny sapling? That’s what you’re telling me?”

I had fallen back into my chair, growling out the muddled, “Not tiny. And you do same thing but you say it ‘shintai’.”

He began tapping his chin. “So you’re telling me that your Mother is an amatsukami? Ōkami, you said? Well, doesn’t she belong in Takamagahara? You know, the heavenly realm? Isn’t their shtick to never walk on earth amongst mortals?”

“Careful,” Azūmi hissed, snatching up his unfinished bowl of rice.

Yori puffed his lower lip out at her, his eyes growing wide, but his trick had no effect on the woman who’d seen better attempts from me. Letting out a sigh, he turned back to watch me scrunch my nose as I struggled with the grammar.

“Amatsukami have reasons, but they hard form on earth,” I eked out. His eyes scrunched in confusion so I backtracked and clarified, “All kamigami need form like this.” I pinched the flesh of arm and waved the limb in front of him. “It to be anything. Plant, animal, people. But need form because musubi weak here.” My lips wrinkled in my scowl. “Much weaker. Kunitsukami okay. They kamigami that no need much musubi. No can go to Takamagahara but learn to live here, but it hurt Amatsukami to be here. It hurt Amatsukami even in Ancient Wood that-”

Forgetting the word, I cast my eyes around looking for something to help me explain and snatched up my chopsticks. I pointed to the lower piece of wood and said, “Earth. Me, you, yokai and kunitsukami here.” I pointed to the higher utensil. “Takamagahara with amatuskami.” I pointed to the gap between them. “Here. Mother here and no leave.”

His eyes grew soft at that for some reason. “Why?” he said. “Isn’t she an amatsukami? Why can’t she leave?”

I puffed out my lip at that. “She choice. Izanagi ask, and she say-” I paused again, growling to myself as I shoved the chopsticks back on the table. _What_ was _that word?_ My frown disintegrated as I hopped up from my chair and shouted, “Between!”

Azūmi appeared out of nowhere to cuff the top of my head, warning me that good ladies shouldn’t scream as much as I did. I crossed my arms over my chest and plopped down into my chair, a proud smile only emerging when I saw Yori giving me muted applause and Master Yūta, who I thought had been asleep the whole time, murmured, “Very good, Mira. You’re improving quickly.”

What happened after lunch that day was typical of any other day. Yori would start crinkling the waxed paper in his pocket, the starting signal that brought Azūmi up short and sent Akio and Master Yūta out the door. Their arguments differed every day but their foundations were the same. Yori said that gardening would give me exercise as well as teach me patience: Azūmi said that cleaning would teach me responsibility let alone exercise. Knowing that I’d rather be playing with the wolves, they hoped their words would sway the other, but they never did. In the end, it was my choice, and I always ended up choosing whoever offered the most chocolate.

I had always liked the human’s food: the dozens of storehouse raids Teru and I had managed proved that. But chocolate – it was something else. I couldn’t put an explanation to it for a time, and only after I had found a secret stash and gorged myself into a lightheaded stupor did I realize why. Somehow, in some way, it reminded me of the Ancient Wood. The way the very air there _tingled_ along my skin: it was akin to the sugar buzzing around my veins. Master Yūta had explained it was a rare type of chocolate – one “probably long gone by now with this war” – but that he’d picked it up during his travels from the last priest in a crumbling shrine. The others – Master Yūta included – never touched the stuff: they complained it was far too bitter. They’d all sit back in amazement and watch me devour the bark that, to me, was as sweet as nectar. Not as sweet as the pure life in the Ancient Woods, but it was enough. And it was addicting.

After that daily bargaining for chocolate, I was yanked off to do the chores with whoever had won me. I’ll be honest: I wasn’t a fan of work. I’d never done it before since I had spent most of my afternoons hunting or playing and those could never be as dull as what I only saw as repetitive nonsense. I hadn’t learned the art of the ‘excuse’ yet and Azūmi was somehow always four steps ahead of my plans to bolt into the woods. I’d have hidden somewhere in the shrine if I could, but I had my pride. Well, that and the place was too small to really even attempt such a thing.

There was a redeeming factor to the chores though. It was that either option led to an afternoon filled with constant chattering. When I dusted the windows and washed the shrine’s floors, Azūmi regaled me with stories of her past. I learned that when she was young, Azūmi lived in a town where she had originally trained to be a miko. It was a small place, she said, but it held more charm than any other town in the Land of Fire. Bewildered, I had asked her if the land outside the woods was really made of fire.

“No, no, dear,” she answered after a throaty laugh. “That’s just what our nation is called.”

I looked at the ground, brow furrowed. She must’ve seen my expression as she quickly explained what a nation was, that there were other ones besides that of Fire, and who the Feudal Lords were. I pursed my lips, trying to imagine all she described to me: the thousands of people, the hot springs, the shops, and the restaurants.

“So,” I began, my tongue thick and heavy, “bigger than shrine?”                                                                                                    

She chuckled from her chest again. “The villages are _much_ bigger. There are only five of us here after all.” Her eyes got that misty far-off look as she paused in her work. “I always wanted to live in one of those huge towns. Live there and become a star. As I got older, I tried to live that dream, you see? I had gone there to make it as an actress but-” She looked at me with a pitiful smile. “Some things just don’t work out. Before I knew it, I’d lost myself and became something I never wanted to be.” She looked at the floor, her neck flushing.

I stopped working and watched her turn her gaze to the floor, her whole face red. “I had a baby girl,” she whispered. “She’d have been an adult now, probably even have her own child. She had auburn hair too.” She crossed her arms over her chest but startled herself at her own touch. She shook her head and bent back over the table.

“Well, I had to leave after all _that_. I knew I wouldn’t be accepted in my hometown, so I wound up here. I had heard stories about this place when I was little and training as a priestess.” She gave a toothy grin, mischief glinting in watery eyes above scarlet cheeks. She looked away from me then, a soft cough resetting her throat. “Even if I can’t be a proper miko anymore, it feels like I’ve come home. I do what I can but-” She gave me a smile. “It’s nice to be able to honor the kamigami properly now.”

Outside, taking up a section of the soft, green grass was the robust garden where Yori grew all the shrine’s food: various berries, legumes, lettuces, and others whose names I don’t know. This is where he usually employed me, saying that if I came from the forest, I must have a green thumb.

Despite being so gaunt, he really knew his way around food – a fact he credited to his childhood fascination with botany and all things outdoors. He reminded me of a field mouse; too big ears popped out of his pale brown hair whose strands reached down to big, dark eyes. His nose even had a little bit of an upturned point to it. The biggest similarity though was that he was small for a human; though he still loomed over me, he was a bit shorter than even Azūmi and the hulking bear that was Akio could’ve easily used his head as an armrest, though he would never act that cruel. Jokingly, Yori had once compared his arms to mine, remarking that mine were bigger though they really were about the same thickness. As if to make up for the physical weakness, he was the most vocal creature I had ever met – always chatting, always laughing.

Naturally, I was curious as to how something like him came to be. Once, when planting seeds for him, I asked him where he had come from.

“Oh?” he murmured, curling the sound in that tickling way of his. He straightened his skinny frame and leaned against his rake. “Miko spoke for once?”

I glared at him, yet found it hard to snarl something back at his pale and sickly figure. “Just wondering,” I muttered, returning my attention to pruning the plants.

“Wondering? About me?” He cupped his chin and stared off into the distance, puffing out his chest. “I feel so honored that someone like yourself is even curious about little old me.” He deflated and jabbed a finger at me. “I’ll tell you this. If you answer that, I will too.”

I scowled at him. “What? Where I from?”

He gave a sharp nod, his pale yellow hair limply bouncing at the motion.

I frowned, thinking it was rather obvious. “Forest.”

He rolled his eyes, groaning like how Teru snored. “I mean, how’d you get into the forest? Who were your parents?”

I bared my fangs. “Mother,” I growled.

His brows lifted, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Calm down, little kami,” he cajoled, using my other nickname – the one I liked better. “I was just wondering if she found you or, I don’t know, you’ve just always existed or something.”

I sheathed my fangs and straightened up. My brow furrowed and my cheeks puffed out. “Well,” I admitted, “Mother say she found me.”

“Really?” He pounced and jabbered at me with a flurry of questions that I wasn’t quick enough to understand. He slowed down seeing me tilt my head – a subconscious giveaway that said I didn’t understand. “I mean where did she find you?”

“Sapling – er, shintai,” I answered, tossing hair from my face. “She found me when it blossom.”

He was silent for a moment, probably debating whether to continue his jabs or be serious for once. He wiped the sweat off his brow and gave a low whistle. “Well,” he began, “I guess it’s my turn, Miko.” He gave me a wolfish grin and taunted, “My story is much more interesting since I came from no place interesting at all. A mining town back off in the hills. I was one of those kids who was born sick and never seemed to get better. Everyone thought I’d die before long, but they were wrong.” He shrugged and began to till the ground again.

_Short story,_ I nipped, ripping off infected leaves.

It was years later that I gathered it, piecing it together from offhand comments he made or were made about him. He was a sickly kid and being a sickly kid, his parents saved for years in order to send him to a proper doctor. When they finally had the money, they sent him off to be cured. He got there, and the doctor turned out to be a fake, swindling him for most of the money. A common thing, I had gathered, since people were desperate during wartime after all. He had walked home, barely making it, only to realize that his town had been decimated by disease; his parents had passed a few days before he had gotten back. It was bad air from the mines, those that were left said. They had to board up the place. Young, alone and depressed, he left his hometown and began to wander, only to wind up at the place that “all wanderers seem to go.”

“Anyway,” he had once commented, sitting up from his work to survey the shrine. “I do think there’s something in the air up here. It’s nice to breathe without having to cough.”

Of course, I never asked him if any of this was true. I had come to realize that with humans, some things were best left untouched. Besides, the perpetually jovial Yori rarely gave me a chance to ask questions. He was always telling me about the outside world, adding on to Azūmi’s stories.

He had put a hand over his mouth once and leaned towards me as we were uprooting some vegetables for dinner. “I passed the Hidden Leaf Village once.” He gave a knowing nod. “I was stopped by three shinobi who questioned me and sent me on my merry way. With this war and all, I’m amazed they just let me off like that. I’d always wanted to meet a shinobi, but that’s not the safest ambition at the moment.”

My face scrunched in confusion. “Villages are big. How can be hidden too?”

Yori fixed me with that pale, cunning stare and bust out laughing. “What? No one ever told you the fantastic tales of the Hidden Villages? Towns where shinobi are born and raised? Where people can breathe fire and shake the earth?”

I gave a low growl. “I do that.”

I turned from him and focused upon the root’s tendrils. I had been practicing since I had come to the shrine. During evening prayer, while everyone else meditated, I had been prying the fabric of existence. I was only ever able to do small things – like pull air to make a barely perceptible breeze or fiddle with the moss growing in the floorboard’s slats. And these I could only do one at a time. I, who danced with light while soaring upon the currents of air, grew incredibly frustrated. Yet that gave me ambition which drove me to regain my original skill, despite the added weight of existence.

_Until I can control lightning again_ , I asserted, setting a goal for myself. Even in the other realm, those erratic, bashing, clashing, fraying strings of white-hot energy were essentially undisciplined. I didn’t have an affinity for lighting since it was essentially a cousin to fire anyway so, of course, I nearly killed myself. It was on a dare by a tengu: the yokai had annoyed me, its bulbous nose bouncing up and down as he prattled on and on about how even humans could do it. I didn’t believe him, but I wasn’t about to be taunted like that. The idiot I was, I reached out to the volatile musubi above. Those threads battered through me, hammering on my own strings, as if the thunder kami, Susanoo-no-Mikoto, was clobbering me himself.  When I had woken up, the beak-like nose of my challenger hovered above me, the quip, “Cleared up your sinuses, eh?” already parting from his skinny lips.

I shuddered at that memory and glanced suspiciously up at the sky. _No wonder rituals use it to lift possessions_.

“Well?” Yori pressed beside me.

I sniffed at him and turned back to the task at hand. I stared at those root’s tendrils, and, after a few moments, watched them grow and twist under my gaze. I sniffed, trying to stop the nosebleed, as I wove the last strands together, forming a green rose. I looked up at Yori with a proud smirk on my face. I was met with a mystified, almost horrified stare.

My smile broke, and I lowered my head. I plucked the flower, tossed it to him and went back to my duties.

He shook his head, regaining his voice. “Here,” he announced and tossed me a piece of chocolate. “An offering to a shinobi.”

I snatched the treat and ravaged it, my mood lightening in an instant. As I nibbled it delectable corners, I set to wondering. He had piqued my fascination. _There were others like me?_ I had thought. _These shinobi?_

That night, I wandered into Master Yūta’s study. It wasn’t unusual for me: usually, during the wolf’s hour, I’d return from the wolf pack and wind my way into his little nook. In those first few nights, I had wandered in bored curiosity – being the only child there, I found myself often alone as the others fell fast asleep, age having sapped their energy. Unable to find much mischief around the shrine, I continued my exploration and wound my way into the musty, cramped library.

I was surprised to find that the room was drenched in twilight rather than night, the resultant efforts of the candles placed throughout the room. A shadow draped oddly over a corner, and I jolted back in surprise to find Master Yūta there, defying his yawns. He gave me a wan smile, motioning me forward as he cast his gaze around. His shriveled hand finally plucking out a tattered, thin book from the shelf before sliding it towards me on the desk. With nothing better to do, I had taken it.

They were picture books at first, aimed at helping a youth learn vocabulary, but soon I graduated on to legitimate works: the fantastical tales of the young samurai Ryuk or the star-crossed romance of Fuu and Juro. My interest in literature wasn’t voracious at the point. I only stuck around and pretended to read mostly: I learned that with every hour that passed, Master Yūta would clap his hands together in praise and sneak me a sugary bribe from a store he kept hidden in his desk. To be honest, when I did read, I grew frustrated with the slow pace and stupid decisions the characters made. With Fuu and Juro, I didn’t understand any of that mushy stuff like why you’d ever want to mix your saliva on each other’s lips or expose yourself to tickling attacks in a hug.

 When I’d told Master Yūta that, he laughed and handed me my first book on shinobi. That’s when I got interested. Not in the plot or anything, but about the shinobi themselves. Their society fascinated me – or at least what the authors thought their secretive Villages were like – but more importantly, I was exposed to what they called ‘jutsu’. While some I could already manage like manipulating nature, others were just too ridiculous.  Making clones? Summoning monsters? It seemed too fantastical to believe. And awesome.

One night, a scoff cracked the back of my throat as I read about a family who specialized in manipulating shadows. Pursing my lips, I leaned back from the book and frowned at the room cloaked in shadows. I suppose I might have had a chance to see their threads in the Ancient Wood, but not here, not now.

“What is it, Mira?” Master Yūta murmured, his voice nearly overtaken by his pen scratching ink into coarse paper.

I lowered my gaze to meet his rising from the paper. I pointed at the book, my brow set as I interrogated, “Fake?”

Master Yūta put his pen down and twined his fingers into a quivering, wrinkled steeple. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he measured me with those bright eyes. “Now, now. People thought _you_ were fake when I talked about my visions.”

I recoiled, my lips pulling back in a silent, dismissive snarl. “No fake.” I shook my head and looked down at the passage again, still doubtful. I bunched my nose as another question worried its way through translation after translation in my mind. Master Yūta was patient as I attempted, “Why not you, Yori, Azūmi, and Akio no can do this too?” I poked at the book to emphasize ‘this’ and clarified, “Musubi.”

Master Yūta must have been some sort of genius to be able to decipher my babblings so easily. “Well, I wouldn’t say that none of us can,” he chuckled and braced his chin on his bridged hands. His eyes took on that strange focus again – the one where he’d be looking at me but seemingly seeing something else entirely. “Some old legends whisper how a handful of famed priests mastered their bodies and souls and could produce a spurt of fire or water from their hands. Nothing as impressive as what shinobi can do, but this was long before the Village system and perhaps even the Sage of Six Paths. None of the myths are reliable, but I did come across a badly damaged fragment once that mentioned the ‘Blessed Miko of Water’ who was writing ‘hand invocations of musubi’.”

He lifted a brow at my nonplussed face. With a laugh, his fingers crumpled on to the table as he tried to straighten hunched shoulders that wouldn’t budge anymore. “I suppose I’d be the only expert on this, and what I’ve found indicates that there are myths of priests and miko who were able to control musubi. Perhaps those stories are fake too.” He smiled at me, and I settled lower into my chair. “Or perhaps texts of these ‘hand invocations’ did exist only to be destroyed by time or people.” He tapped his desk. “Or, as Akio theorizes, perhaps the shinobi took them.”

I understood him well enough, but the only thing I took from that talk was the possibility that I too might be able to control shadows. Of course, I tried that amongst recreating other techniques on my own when I was alone at night, but I could never quite manage more than a headache. When I tested out hand signs – things left so vague in the novels it was just me smashing my fingers together – I ended up with bruised knuckles. Eventually, I’d have to be forced to bed when urged by Master Yūta. This urging usually took the form of another chocolate nib: apparently, Master Yūta had brought a “lifetime supply of chocolate” when he first came here.

“He should’ve brought toilet paper,” Yori had muttered, but I was too busy licking the last of the chocolate off my hands to ask him what he was talking about.

The night after Yori told me about Hidden Villages, I clunked out announcing steps as I entered. As usual, Master Yūta was up, too distracted by his studies to listen to his body. He greeted me with a warm smile as I slunk past the trunks of books piled on the floor. I hopped up into my cushioned seat and yawned, “Book of shinobi?”

The gūji gave me a quizzical look but made no comment. He tapped his desk for a moment before wobbling up from his chair. Bobbing his head, he began his hunched shuffle over to a pile of books towering precariously beside the desk. With a practiced yank, he snatched a bundle of pages from the center, steadying the pile with his left hand. He handed the batch of crinkled and torn papers to me. I looked down at the top sheet and had to squint at the scrawled ‘ _The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi’_ with the smaller word ‘Draft’ beneath it followed by a string of crossed out numbers that eventually ended with a ‘5’ _._

I heard Master Yūta murmuring on about it being a “manuscript” from someone he met during his travels. “A bona fide shinobi,” he asserted, tapping his fingers against the grain of his desk. “Let me read his newest version of the story, and since I liked it so much, he gave me his old work.” His fingers stopped as his eyes squinted behind his glasses. “I wonder if he’s figured out how to end it.”

Too pleased to pay attention, I sat down and curled up, already lifting the cover page. The first paragraph was written in a nasty scribble with multiple words crossed out, circled, or adjusted in the margins. Still, I was hooked: it was a nice change to the preachy tomes with which I’d been dealing.

Before I could begin to read, Master Yūta stopped me. “Mira,” he murmured.

I lifted my gaze to him, curious as to the sudden gravity in his tone.

He caught me in his gaze and motioned towards the book. “Why’re you interested in the shinobi?”

I paused, nose scrunched in thought. I would always get the verbs wrong in this kind of sentence. Slowly, I stuttered out, “B-because they are l-like me.” I thought the sentence once over in my mind and grinned that I had said it right.

Master Yūta sat back in his seat and interlocked his fingers, tapping his thumbs against one another. “I wouldn’t say that.” He settled his frame back into the seat’s cushions. He tilted his head as he stared at me. I returned the gesture by tilting my head the other way. He gave a light laugh – sounding more like a wheeze – and his mood lightening considerably. His smile returned to lift the deep wrinkles in his cheeks.

“You’re a smart girl, Mira,” he commented. “Too smart. If we didn’t give you enough work, you’d be going around making mischief.” He raised his eyebrows and winked at me. “I think more meat would go missing from our smoke shed.”

I blanched but tried to pass it off with a watery grin.

He brushed it off with another wheezing chortle and tossed me a piece of chocolate. Stuffing it into my mouth, I let it melt as I looked down at the book and began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter down! Hope you enjoyed, readers! If you have the time, please shout out in a review! ConCrit and general feels encouraged!


	6. Chapter 6

Shink.

Shink.

Shink.

The boy stood there, the wan moonlight melting over him like butter over steel. He was sweeping the blade along the whetstone in sure, smooth strokes, and the tantō purred as it slid over the oiled rock. Though his eyes were trained to the sheen of metal, his movements were detached – the practice now so engrained he could gauge his progress by sound alone. Now the sweet timber of a bell was filling the room – the trilling of a weapon already finely honed – but he continued, grinding its edge to an ever finer point.

As the metal heated further in his hands, his mind remained cold, only allowing the briefings and stratagems behind the new mission flicker past. It would be an infiltration again. Nothing new. He’d done similar jobs before – sabotages behind the enemies’ front lines. He had plenty of experience over these few years; however, those had been with other teams – other hindrances. His new teammates, on the other hand-

His mask warmed as he let out a steady breath. They’d done better than he’d predicted on their first mission. He knew they wouldn’t have failed – not with Konoha’s Yellow Flash as their captain – but he’d assumed that Obito would’ve bungled it all somehow. Yet despite a few mistakes here and there, the mission had gone well – well, enough that they’d already earned another job after three day’s rest.

This time it would be a string of supply depots. Whose? He knew, but he didn’t particularly care to remember right then. All that mattered was the intel that the guards’ chakra affinities were mostly wind. That meant he’d have to hold back on lightning techniques. Pity. He’d wanted to test out the new jutsu on which he’d been working.

Shi-IINK.

The boy stopped and lifted the tantō, turning it in his grip to check for any damage. Only someone familiar with the blade would note the wrinkled lines beneath the smooth veneer of steel – the markings of repair. He eyed the new subtle blotch near the hilt and again had to commend the old bladesmith, Kano, for her skill.

“Again?” the wrinkled crone had muttered as her knobbed talons snatched the cracked weapon from him. Pity softened her eyes as she cradled the tantō and shook her head. She didn’t even look at him – too entranced by the legend resting in a broken heap against her chest.

“You should be more careful, Kakashi,” she had chided. “The White Light Chakra Saber is finicky enough as it is being so old without you doing your best to break it every day. One day I might not be able to fix it! If that day comes, it better be because I’m too arthritic to do anything and _not_ because you shattered the last of Master Shuichi’s work beyond repair.”

Kakashi had made some excuse or another as he dipped his chin only to do the same when he went to pick it up two days ago. There was still pity in Kano’s eyes as she placed the tantō in his hands, but that time it wasn’t for the weapon.

_It’s happening again,_ he grouched, shoving the tantō a bit more harshly then he’d intended back on the whetstone. _Another good reason for a mission._

It had grown harder to understand over time. The reason. Sure, he _knew_ the rationalization behind it all: his last words to him only made sense after it all had happened. He could accept it for a time, but soon time made that justification thin to an excuse. How could it not? When the very comrades _he_ ’d protected were still turned against him? When his classmates had just assumed _he_ was away on a mission: that’s why Kakashi lived alone, that’s why no one came anymore. It was worse when they realized the death – though still few knew the nature of it.

With the second anniversary approaching, he wanted to be on the move again, needed to be absorbed in another mission. It was what he was trained to do. He was good at it – excellent even. The prodigy. The genius. He was making a reputation for himself, and he deserved every bit of it. But the older generations like Kano’s couldn’t seem to forget the other genius of the Hatake clan. His legend had been so great – His failure so catastrophic – that even years later they still mentioned His name in curdled tones of awe and disgust.

 Whether it was luck or his sensei’s unseen tugging of backstage strings, this job would take a few months. They would be heading deep into enemy territory to strike the critical arteries of the advancing troops, and while the actual raids would only take a few nights, the covert traveling would steal the bulk of their time. This strategy required a patience and skill he doubted all his teammates possessed, but he’d pick up any extra slack as long as it meant he could avoid the furtive murmurs.

It had gotten worse these past two years. As Kakashi strove to make his own name, the elders compared them more and more, bobbing their chins like chickens as they proclaimed they were growing more similar each day. From his abilities to even his looks, Kakashi couldn’t escape His shadow. It was like he was still a boy plodding along in his father’s footsteps, unable to tear himself away from that shameful path of which he wanted no part.

Kakashi lifted the tantō to check its balance again, unable to help his glowering as the prickling along his neck renewed. It was as if they had started watching him again – the stupid flowers lying on his windowsill. He had been walking back from Kano’s shop when he’d seen them stretching out of their bucket, their petals yawning in the morning. He bought two of the discounted bundles – the demand of a strange impulse that died immediately after he handed the ryō over.

He had hefted the weeds, blaming both his idiocy for being swayed by a bargain and his training with that so-engrained-as-to-be-instinct shinobi’s rule to be “prepared before it is too late”. Knowing he’d miss the day if his mission was extended, tradition dictated that he should make his offerings before he left. He did – for his mother at least. Though he had no memories of her, he honored her by cleaning her grave and leaving one of the bouquets. The other had remained on his windowsill these past two days – the white flowers still blooming despite being left to rot in the sun. The other grave was-

There was a sudden flash as the moonlight caught the tantō’s tilted edge. Though only a shadow of the famed white streak, Kakashi’s pupils widened and he slammed the weapon onto table. He pivoted on a heel and walked away, letting out a breath.

He shook his head and refocused himself on more important things. S _o no lightning then,_ he repeated as he strode towards a set of drawers. He stopped and began rummaging through the drawers, keeping his gaze from the mirror while fixing the hold the mask held over his face. _Well, I haven’t used fire techniques seriously for a while with the Uchiha so behind._ A scowl tugged his mask low. _It’ll be good to get better practice, so which ones need work?_

He outfitted himself outfitting himself with shuriken, kunai, and other tools he would need in the mission to come as he listed the jutsu he knew. He noted a few that he’d need to refresh as they travelled, but otherwise felt satisfied that he knew a wide enough range to handle himself. He looked to his desk, checking the clock skipping on towards three in the morning. _Should get going soon,_ he thought as he secured the last of the tools. He cinched the straps tight against his chest and turned back to the table, tugging the braces onto his forearms.

As he moved, his attention pricked towards the street. _This early?_ Intuition already whispered the answer to him as he differentiated the footsteps: the soft, staccato of a civilian’s heels nearly drowned out the already quiet, steady stride of a shinobi. He resumed his preparations but couldn’t help hearing the end of the lovers’ date.

“Tomorrow?” the woman tried to keep her voice even, but even an Academy novice would be able to pick out the hidden strain. “So soon? But you just got back.”

“It’ll just be a few weeks,” the man assured her, his voice low and confident. It was the latter quality that gave his lie away: no one could predict what happened in war. She didn’t seem to care: she snatched at anything she could.

“Do you know where you’re going?” she murmured – the quaver finally breaking through.

“To the ANBU’s headquarters,” he joked, his tone trying to poke and deflate her unease.

She didn’t laugh.

“I’m not allowed to say,” he murmured. “You know that. I’ll be back soon though.”

She giggled – a weak thing too late to be convincing. She latched onto his earlier teasing and poked, “For a shinobi, you’re a terrible liar. I’ve known all this time you were part of the ANBU. You thought leaving your shuriken in the washing machine would throw me off? Or jumping onto the couch when you saw a rat in the room?”

He laughed, and she joined in as their steps carried them further from his apartment. The last thing Kakashi heard of them was the woman’s soft, “Just come home when you can, okay? I love you. And I think the rat does too.”

At her last words, Kakashi rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the crinkling of his nose at an emotion he left unacknowledged. He stretched his arms, twisting his back this way and that to test his gear. Satisfied, he snatched the tantō off the table without another glance and slid it into its sheath. He began to leave, glancing around the room to ensure he had forgotten nothing: the microwave was unplugged, the dishwasher empty, and the fridge cleaned out.

Nodding, he turned to the door only to see the shadow of the bouquet. The streetlamps outside painted its delicate outline with the gray hues of shadow, blocking his exit with their mural along his wall. Grumbling under his breath, he strode back in and snatched the flowers. Their spines snapped in his grip as he turned to leave again. He waved a hand over his shoulder, murmuring a goodbye with only the refrigerator’s hum sending him off.

He made his way onto the street and threw out the flowers at first trashcan he found.

Despite wearing a thicker mask for the mountains, a winter wind roused and nibbled at his neck. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he wound through the alleyways and backstreets, opting for the less-peopled route though it was longer. Normally even this late in the night, he’d hear the warbling men stumbling home from a bar or the gossiping of women. Perhaps there’d even be an Academy student or two cramming for an upcoming test. Tonight, the only people he sensed moving in Konoha were ranks of guards – most lacking experience in true battle, others injured from too much.

Though the Village had been at war for as long as he could remember, these past few months had felt different. The war seemed to have sharpened recently, and there was a strange stillness about the streets – probably a result of the stricter rationing. The air itself seemed to hover about, the wind flitting from window to window, fretting just as much as the mothers, lovers, or children who paced their hallways or tossed in their beds.

He turned a corner, only to be greeted with a chirped, “Morning, Kakashi!”

He straightened up, surprised that Rin had beaten him to their meeting location: usually her parents drowned her with hugs and kisses, stalling her before she set foot outside. Though her cheeriness was a bit dulled by the early hour, she still managed to smile at him. A few seconds later, her crinkled cheeks fell a bit as she must have sensed his mood, but she didn’t look away. Instead, her brow gathered, her eyes brightening as worry awakened her further.

Kakashi rolled his eyes at her pity. _Great_ , he muttered in his mind, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned away from her and looked to their captain. Minato welcomed him with a measured smile – a testing of the waters: he of all people knew what this time of year meant. Kakashi dipped his chin, knowing that motion would stave off his sensei’s questions.

Sure enough, Minato turned away, his face just scrunching as he murmured, “Now, where’s Obito?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this brief interlude into Kakashi’s perspective! It's a bit of a fresher, if just darker, take on his earlier years especially since this part of the story occurs around the anniversary of relatively recent Sakumo's suicide. To lighten it, I hope you appreciated my laying of foundations for his Icha Icha love later on! 
> 
> As always, ConCrit and/or general feels encouraged!


	7. Chapter 7

“I’ve figured it out!” Yori announced, mixing the thick paste. “Miko’s actually a kunoichi come to spy on us! All those howls last night? Her communicating in secret code!”

I stared at Yori, confused. Not at what he had asked me but at that patchy, blonde stubble beneath that thin nose – the irrefutable defeat in a week’s bet to not shave against Akio. It poorly sculpted his thin face and made his pale skin look ashy. He stood on spindly legs a good head-and-shoulders above me, and the angle of light made it look even worse. I tilted my head, trying to see if a new perspective would improve things.

It didn’t.

Yori continued his theory, continuing the joke he had begun when first learning about my obsession. “Light on her feet,” he described, scratching his so-called beard. “Never seen her fall or trip or anything. She can smell and hear everything. I bet shinobi are like that too.”

“Combative too,” Azūmi threw in as she carefully coated a tile and handed it up to me. “If we know anything about the shinobi, they sure love their wars.”

“I mean when we first saw her, she looked completely feral,” Yori commented, rubbing sweat from his glistening scalp. He waggled a skinny finger at me, eyes glinting with his teasing mirth. “You walked up to us on all fours, butt-naked.”

I stifled my growl at their laughter but felt a small flicker of pride. A wolf was always supposed to be intimidating.

“You looked like you were about to call the rest of the pack and kill us,” Azūmi agreed, wiping another tile with the paste and handing it up to me. “But what I remember the most is the smell! Woah!” She swiped the air in front of her nose.

I wrinkled my nose in distaste at their renewed laughter. I wouldn’t have said anything if my usual chocolate reward was on the line, but today we all worked together on repairing the roof: there was no need to vie over my help. Instead, I folded my arms across my chest and retorted, “You should smell yourselves sometime. My nose isn’t going to ever be the same.”

Azūmi entwined her fingers – a subtle assertion of her authority over mine. I backed down and continued working on the tiles.

“I still can’t believe Master Yūta was right in the end,” she said, her black hair bouncing as she shook her head. “I thought he’d finally gone off the deep-end.” She turned to me in sync with Yori. “I mean, who’d have thought the wolf-girl he dreamed about was real?”

I didn’t bother to answer as I placed the last tile. Below me, Yori threw his hands up in the air, a huge smile collapsing his cheeks with large dimples. “Finished!” he announced.

I looked down at them as I hunched over on the storage shed’s roof, eyes squinting at the light reflecting off the pond. The sweaty task that had been absorbing us for the past week finally over. The door no longer squeaked, the walls no longer swayed, and the roof no longer leaked. I was the one saddled up on the structure – the only one light enough not to make the whole thing collapse.

I slid to the edge of the tiles and hopped off, landing softly on my toes.

 “See?” Yori exclaimed. “Kunoichi!”

I made no response. I only feigned annoyance because it was _him_ , but I wouldn’t deny that I had leapt around in fantasies of flying shuriken and kunai. All the things they did, all the places they traveled – I could barely even conceive of such things from my life hemmed in by these woods.

“Perfect!” added Azūmi, snatching back my curious gaze sliding over the forest’s edge. She wiped her hands on a rag. “Just in time for practice.”

I froze, a rabbit caught in the open.

 “Aw, come on, Miko!” Yori cajoled, aiming a jab at my side. “Practice can’t be worse than yesterday!”

I whirled away, snarling at him as I launched into a sprint.

“Mira,” Azūmi barked. “You have to practice!”

I skidded to a halt, my head lowering. I turned back to her, working a pained and pitiful expression on my face.

“No good,” she growled, wagging a finger. “The ritual takes place tomorrow evening. You’re doing the Kagura. Why else would we be practicing?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, grumbling to myself. I caught Yori looking around only for his gaze to fall upon Akio. The bear was carving out a new patch of ground for the garden, and he turned when Yori called, “Akio!”

The black head glanced back.

“Come on!” Yori summoned, waving his hand. “You’re going to miss the show!”

I glared at Yori, shutting my jaw with a sharp snap.

“Oh, don’t mind that fool,” Azūmi said, giving her own glare at the blonde child. “You’re doing much better than before.” She began to scoot me away, patting off the dust on my clothes while she did so.

She guided me beneath the red-posted gate, past the dandelion-filled meadow, and to where we worshiped the kami. Set in the back of the shrine, Azūmi always murmured that it was a simple thing, but the haiden always caught my breath. Not only did it thrum from a gentle condensing of musubi, but its simple beauty made me wonder at who had built it. Somehow someone had curled the roof’s tiled corners, making it look as if it was catching the sky.  Its paper walls shielded simple yet spotless boards of wood – a feature that only emphasized the beauty when one folded the thin screens back. Before the start of each ceremony, Akio would pull them open, revealing the whole meadow nestled between the surrounding peaks where the ever-present dandelions and lilies somehow held back the forest’s trunked battalions.

It was here that my torture was occurring in recent months.

I looked unsteadily down at my feet. “Can’t I do this later?” I yowled. “I’m supposed to hunt today. The pack hasn’t eaten in a week and a half.”

“You can do that after,” she tutted, grabbing the yamatogoto from its shelf. “This will be quick. You just have to learn the last few steps before tomorrow.” She sat down, placing the stringed instrument in front of her. The patter of footsteps announced the arrival of the eager crowd. Yori and Akio settled in the corner, Yori nudging the other, trying to get him to bet. Azūmi harshly hissed at them silencing them. They fidgeted in their spots, ready for the show.

I glowered at them and refused to move, even when Azūmi began to play the first chords on the stringed instrument. She chattered at me like a furious squirrel, but I paid no attention. “I swear,” she muttered.  She groaned and turned to Yori. “A bit of help?”

He grinned and slipped a tab of chocolate out of his pocket. He took a bite of it himself and tossed it to Azūmi. She grimaced as she caught it, holding it gingerly in her hand before placing it on her knee. “ _That_ will be yours if you learn the rest of the ceremony.”

My mouth began to water, my stomach growled. _I hate you,_ I snarled at my addiction while glaring at Yori. _How does he always have sweets?_

Azūmi shook her head and placed her fingers on the device that tuned my torture. “All right! Here we go! One! Two! Three!” She began to play again, and I aped out the movements, eternally conscious of my audience’s gaze.

I stumbled through the more difficult turns and had to restart the whole ritual about four times. Two of the reasons was because I had nearly fallen off the edge of the haiden. Slipping once again, I came to a stop, panting and sweating in the heavy clothes. “Useless!” I snarled as the two priests tried to muffle their laughter.

“You’re much better!” Azūmi tried to force, her frozen expression saying otherwise.

I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth. “Wolves don’t dance. We howl.”

“Can you sing?” she posed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“No!” Yori gasped. “Don’t let her do that! She can’t carry a tune if her life depended on it!”

I would’ve shoved him with a gust of air, but Akio punched him in the arm for me. I nodded a thanks at him, and he blinked in response.

“Ow,” Yori muttered, rubbing his bicep. “Don’t punish a guy for honesty.”

I winced as Azūmi banged out a discordant chord. “All right,” she growled. “A couple more times, and then you can go.”

As I waved my hands through the air like a maniac, I couldn’t help but even debate the point of this ritual. Grimacing, I knew the kamigami would probably like this: they liked any offering as it stroked their ego. Still, I didn’t see how any human could have thought that these weird gestures would have pleased them.

I came to a halt as the Azūmi strummed the last notes. She forced a smile onto her features, turning her face into a frightening mask. “All right,” she capitulated, “we can be done for the day. Next time, _try_ not to look like you want to kill someone.” She slid the chocolate over to me. “Your prize.” She folded her hands on top of her instrument. “Well, have fun… _hunting_.” She grimaced. “Just don’t get your clothes filthy.”

Gulping down the chocolate, I nodded and leapt off the haiden, glaring at my audience as I passed. They laughed and waved at me as I sprinted off towards the temple gate and the woods beyond.

Turning my nose to the sun, I let out a howl. My shrill voice faded into the distance before deep booming howls echoed back, answering my call. I tore into the forest, dropping onto all fours and not caring that my uniform shredded as it caught onto brambles. I could tell that I had grown taller in these past few years. I could actually see over most of the grass now though my limbs were a bit uncomfortable walking in this quadrupedal gait.

I scrambled up the crest I had descended so long ago only for the earth to start quaking. The next thing I knew, three wolves burst out of the woods and descended upon me nipping, yelping and howling. Gone was the awkward cloddishness of their teenage years. All wasted space and too large limbs had been replaced by the prime of adolescence. Muscle had grown in, coats had thickened, fangs and claws had sharpened.

_‘Ready, Mira? Ready?’_ Ashi poked me with her wet nose. I grinned up at her, having to crane back my neck. She had lost her gawkiness, growing into a quick and lithe figure more than capable of bringing down an elk by herself. Her white fur had smoothed into a glistening marble, and her yellow eyes were bright with energy.

_‘Of course!’_ I shouted back at her, hopping from foot to foot. ‘ _How’re we doing this? It’s just us, right?’_

Utau nudged from the back. ‘ _Don’t need to bother anyone with a job we can do ourselves.’_ I whirled around on him, latching onto his nose. He shook me off with a chortle. I peered up at him, grinning at his russet figure. His chestnut eyes beamed down at me, his creamy ears flicking this way and that.

_‘How’s Hana?’_ I asked.

_‘Good. The pups’ll be here soon.’_ I twisted around, backing up a few steps to take in Teru. He had grown huge – he now towered over even Kizuato. His fur had turned even a pitcher shade of black, his eyes piercing stars. A pink tongue lolled out of his mouth as he cocked an ear at me. ‘ _You don’t smell too good, little flea.’_

I snarled at him but knew he was right. I pawed at the ground, scratching up the forest’s scents, and began to roll around in it. I knew Azūmi would kill me if she knew, but this was wolf’s business. I stood up, shaking my hair. ‘ _Better?’_

Ashi sniffed me. ‘ _Perfect. Now let’s go! The herds will start moving soon.’_

Tails twitched in agreement, and Teru dipped his head down to me. ‘ _Get on, little flea. We need to be quick.’_

_‘I can keep up,’_ I grouched, leaping up onto his withers. I settled there, grabbing onto his fur.

_‘Don’t kid yourself,’_ he answered. He lifted his nose to the air, latching onto the scent. He turned towards the others. ‘ _Let’s move.’_

My jaw clashed together at the sudden explosion of movement. I berated myself for being unprepared but settled into the coursing of his stride. We burst through the underbrush, moving along invisible trails as we slid through the woods. Our path carved around the edge of the mountain, past streams and lakes that dotted the land. The trees and bushes flew by in a blur. The wind snapped at my hair. Yet all I could do was restrain myself from throwing my hands into the air and holler.

We stopped, reaching the huge expanse of meadow where the huge herd of sika deer had gathered. We crouched low and took in the situation. Despite our boasting, we all knew the danger here. Even the female deer were easily double a wolf’s height while the male bucks easily tripled the weight in pure muscle. We had to be smart about this; if they ganged up on the four of us, at best we’d go home just empty-handed.

But if there was any time to hunt, it would be now. The air was thick with hormones, and the deer were all distracted by each other. The bucks appraised each other while the does pranced about. I could hear their simpering mewling from here as they paced around, munching on the grass.

_‘The chokepoint will be here,’_ Teru asserted, drawing our attention to him. His tone had deepened, his words chosen with more care. He trotted over to the tree and leapt onto the trunk. ‘ _Mira, you know what to do.’_

I growled in assent and climbed to the tip of his nose, jumping off to land in the lower branches of the tree. I appraised the selection of branches before me before tearing the stiffest looking one out.

Teru turned towards the others. ‘ _Utau, you take the left wing. Ashi, take the right.’_ They panted in assent, disappearing into the woods. Teru watched them going, giving a small whine.

_‘It’ll be fine,’_ I called down to him. ‘ _We know what we’re doing.’_

He lowered his head and shook, ridding himself of his nerves. ‘ _All right. Let’s go.’_ He slipped into the underbrush.

I waited, watching the deer mull around, chewing on stalks of grass and completely unsuspecting. I had full confidence in our endeavor; we had been taught well.

Ashi acted first. On the side with the excitable does, she burst from the grass, having slipped undetected to twenty feet from them. The does bounded away, inciting panic into the whole group of them. We needed that panic to make our whole operation work.

My sister charged into the herd, cleaving it into two. The bucks stamped around for a moment, but their youth betrayed them; they too began to gallop away. I could see her scanning the crowd, looking for the weakest group. She swerved left, away from me, quartering the main group.

Utau then burst from his spot, having pinpointed the weakest of Ashi’s selection. He charged forward, forcing the deer to skid to a halt and reverse direction back into my sister’s path. She snapped at one, her teeth grazing its chest.

The deer bucked, nearly crippling Utau with a hoof. He managed to dodge it, dipping under the limb and even attempting a bite. And with that, they had selected. They continued to chase after the group, dividing it until only that injured one was left. They forced her to turn, swinging her in my direction.

I opened my mouth, took in a deep breath, and ground my teeth into the branch. Wolves usually ran out their prey, but the sika deer could run faster and longer than all of us, especially in the woods; while we had to muscle our way through the underbrush, the deer could just charge through. That was where my part came in all of this.

The deer approached, and time slowed down as adrenaline kicked in. The deer was four bounds away.

Three.

Two.

One.

I dropped from my branch. I fell onto the charging doe, colliding with its forehead as air exploded out of my chest. It began to swing its head, grunting and yowling. I locked my claws into its fur and hung on as it tried to throw me off. I didn’t think about what would happen if it managed to; with the force it could fling me with, I wouldn’t have a long time to think about it before I smashed into something either.

The deer careened through the underbrush as I tried to keep my grip on it. Leaves and twigs slammed into my back, always jarring my motions and clanking my joints together. I couldn’t regain my full breath, but it didn’t matter. I had to act quickly. I tangled my right hand into its coat and released my left grip. With my left hand free, I tore the branch out of my mouth, raised my fist and then slammed it into its left eye.

The doe reared, flailing its legs and bellowing. I could hear Ashi and Teru take advantage of the pause, but the deer exploded into another charge with renewed energy. This time, its stumbling path was directed to the right, that being the direction it could best see.

“Shit!” I snarled, feeling my grip beginning to loosen as my muscles gave out. I buried my left hand into its hair, letting my right arm free. Stinging with pain and almost limp, I struggled to raise it. ‘ _Now, Teru!’_ I howled, banging my fist against into its sticky eye.

It reared again, beginning to buck. I lost my grip and was flung into the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Teru burst from the bushes, hitting the deer’s side with all his force. I began to fall, and the world went dark around me.

Dark and sticky and hot.

I groaned, knowing what had happened.

_‘I saved your life,’_ Utau grumbled a few minutes later, his tail flicking. ‘ _You should be grateful.’_

_‘You nearly swallowed me!’_ I snarled back, wiping more of his saliva off my face.

_‘Well, a death by the mighty Utau would’ve been honorable.’_ He leaned over and re-soaked my body with an especially wet slurp.

I glared up at him, flicking the excess off my dripping wrists. ‘ _Thanks,’_ I muttered.

The rest of the hunt had been finished quickly. Teru led the blessing to Ōkami for the success of the hunt and a prayer to Shika for the gift of life that was the doe. From these series of howls, the rest of the pack was alerted to our victory and soon they gathered with us, spouting congratulations. Hana, heavy with pups, swayed out of the woods last with Kizuato.

We now laid about, drowsy with our full stomachs as night washed over us. Hana chimed, _‘What was that you said, Mira? That human word?’_ She attempted her best, but it came off as a pup-like whine. She flicked her tail, annoyed at Teru’s snickering, and continued, _‘What did it mean?’_

I blinked, feeling a blush creep up my neck. I had always been so careful to keep the divide between my two lives. Scratching my neck, I replied _‘It’s a bad word for them.’_

_‘What does it mean?’_ Teru joined, licking his paw.

I shrugged. _‘No idea. Azūmi always gets mad when we say it. Not as bad, but I suppose it’s as bad as saying ‘dog’.’_

All three of them bared their teeth at that. I shrugged and turned back to toying with the grass in front of me, trying to manipulate its musubi. I was attempting to determine where the priests might have hidden a stash of chocolate again. I’d found a few despite my wrecked sense of smell, and over time I learned to only take a few tabs so that they wouldn’t move them again. However, I had been looking for them for a few weeks now, but I hadn’t accomplished anything.

_Maybe the roof?_ I considered.

A gust of wind washed over me as Kizuato settled next to me. He nuzzled me, nipping my hair, and for a moment I forgot those four years – forgot the shrine – and felt like a pup again. Officially, I was an adult in the pack now if not in the human’s world. His gravel words hammered that in. ‘ _Are they treating you well Mira?’_

_‘Yep,’_ I yipped with a toss of my hair. I grinned up at him. ‘ _They’re strange, but I like them. They’ve been teaching me a lot.’_ I cocked my head. ‘ _Still can’t believe they’re so weak though.’_

Kizuato chortled at my side. ‘ _You have changed, little one. Picked up their mannerisms. You even walk like them now.’_

He stared up at the heavens. It was a cloudless night, and stars shimmered above us like the sun’s rays breaking upon waves in a lake. Yet, despite their untouchable beauty, they were merely subject to the true majesty of the skies. As we stared upon her realm, the eternal moon stared right back.

_‘Tsukiyomi-no-mikoto is bright tonight,’_ Kizuato murmured. ‘ _New moons bring new scents.’_

He looked down his snout at me and shoved me with a paw. Sensing his intent, I gave a happy yip in agreement. He lifted his nose to the air and began to howl, honoring the great night kami. Kizuato’s notes were deep, resonating within my very bones. Hana’s mellifluous notes joined in, and soon the entire pack began to sing. I joined in with my own feeble voice, singing a haunting melody that human words could never do justice.

My own soul began to ache as the mournful tune cried for a homeward journey that could never take place. Memories of Ka flickered in my mind, and I couldn’t help that my voice gave out as my throat grew sore. Our song poured over the mountain range, and as our tune ended, we could hear our notes echo back. Though I knew it was a trick of the wind, but I pretended I could hear Ka howl back to us in those echoes.

The moon was nearing its peak when I returned to the shrine, Kizuato at my side. Yawning, I stretched my arms to get rid of the worst of the ache in my shoulders. They still stung a little when I moved them: I must have messed up some muscles. I grimaced, knowing that Azūmi wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I used that as an excuse to not dance.

_Azūmi!_ I jerked at the realization, I groaned as I stared down at my uniform. It was tattered and crusted with saliva and dirt. I’d have to spend a good amount of time tomorrow patching it up.

_‘Anything wrong, Mira?’_ the alpha asked.

I shook my head. ‘ _Something only humans would care about.’_

He nodded and came to a standstill at the edge of the woods. We said our goodbyes, and he nuzzled me before disappearing back into the underbrush. I watched him go before turning back to the shrine.

I shuffled up to the red gates, too tired to realize that Akio had been standing there the whole time. I jolted when he moved from the shadows into the patch of moonlight, and I gave him a low growl. However, he wasn’t looking at me: he was looking to where Kizuato had disappeared.

A low whistle escaped between his lips, and he shook his head. He looked down at me, his usually matte eyes now flickering.

A giddiness rose up in me, and I let it escape with a grin. His gaze focused upon my teeth, and that deepness left his expression. He turned away and began to walk back into the shrine’s grounds. Confused, I scratched at my teeth with a finger, thinking that something had caught between my teeth. When I pulled it away, I realized they were still red from the hunt. Frowning, I wiped them off with a clean part of my sleeve, removing the worst of the dirt as well.

I hurried after him, straightening up onto two feet, and entered the temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please leave any thoughts or ConCrit in a review :)


	8. Chapter 8

Akio held the kitchen door open for me, and I hopped inside. I shuffled to the dying fire and huddled there, hoarding its heat into my stiff muscles. I narrowed my eyes at the weak flames, a perverse little leer twitching my lips.

I heard the door scrape and click behind me, and I looked back to see that Akio had entered and closed the door. He nodded at me and jerked his chin to Master Yūta’s nook. I glanced at the alpha’s doorway, seeing candlelight still flicker out of it. Giving myself one last shake in front of the fire, I walked into the room.

I blinked, adjusting to the dim light, and found Master Yūta pouring over works on his desk. I slunk over to my seat and hopped up onto the cushion. I sat there and watched him scan one book before shoving it away to read a few lines of a scroll just beneath it. He was using his finger to trace his path – an action he only did when he was serious.

I kept quiet, glancing around at a room more disorganized than usual. A dozen works had been piled in the center of the room, forming a precarious little mound from which I lifted the topmost scroll. I glanced down at the title, squinting at its old-fashioned scrawl.

_The Kagura._ I nibbled on my lip and peered up at Master Yūta. _Is this what he’s been researching?_ I scanned the writing but was unable to make out most of the dated words. Grumbling, I placed it back on its pile and waited.

After he scratched out a few notes, Master Yūta looked up and greeted me with a wan smile. “Hello, Mira. How’d the hunt go?”

“We’ve got food for a week,” I announced, giving a toothy smile.

“And Hana? You said she was expecting?”

I nodded. “Expecting pups! They’ll be here by the next quarter moon.” I settled back into my throne and stretched my legs, my smile turning softer. “They asked if I’d mentor them.”

Master Yūta gave a heartier smile. “I suppose that’s quite an honor?”

I beamed at him. “Well, it’ll balance out how annoying the pup brothers and sisters will be, but at least I won’t be the smallest anymore.”

A wheezy chortle shook his shoulders as he shuffled a few pieces of paper before him. He stamped them down onto the desk, straightening them, and plopped them onto a corner. He interlocked his fingers and began to tap his thumbs.

I waited for him to speak first: Akio wouldn’t have told me to come in if it wasn’t something serious.

“Mira,” Master Yūta began, “I’m thinking that I shouldn’t let you perform the Kagura tomorrow.”

I bounded to my feet, yipping and howling, only to be jarred to a groan as my shoulders clenched with pain. I hunched over and slid back into my chair, nursing my muscles.

Master Yūta merely stared with wide eyes. “You don’t like it that much?”

I nodded with a grimace, rubbing a muscle that must be at least partially torn. “It’s stupid,” I grouched. “I can’t do any of the steps right.”

He murmured to himself, shuffling through his pages to read something. He frowned but seemed to not be too disturbed. He put the papers down and peered up at me from behind those thick lenses. “Mira, can I ask you why you think you’re here? At the shrine, I mean.”

I cocked my head at him, my focus stolen by his reticent tone. With a frown, I had to considered my answer, trying to form the words Mother had told me so long ago. “To learn to be human,” I answered, “so I can remind man of the kamigami.”

He pursed his lips, giving a weak nod. “I suppose that’d be the gist of it.”

He leaned back in his own seat, placing his withered hands on his lap. His lenses flared as the candlelight caught them, making me unable to see his eyes, but I knew his gaze had grown hazy with memories.

“When I was a boy,” he began, a hoarseness creeping into his throat, “I listened to all the old legends and believed them. With the wars going on, there wasn’t much else I could do. After my village was destroyed, I decided to go and find out if any were true. I visited libraries first, and I learned how to decode those old cryptic tongues. That option drying out, I moved onto the abandoned shrines and temples. Luckily, some had a few priests left. I questioned them, and they told me what they knew. Told me I was a fool. Somewhere along the way I decided to become a priest myself.”

He shook his head with a little chortle. “I never would’ve guessed that’d happen.” A small smile buoyed the wrinkles on his cheeks. “After, I traveled and helped victims of the war. That’s how I found Akio.” A dark shadow past over his face, but it vanished as he continued, “I took him with me to chase down the ancient legends no one believed anymore. Of a forest at the edge of the mortal world where kamigami still roamed.”

He stopped then, breaking out of his reverie. “But it wasn’t my work alone that brought me here. No. I was guided by a kami.” He shifted in his seat and fixed me with a jade eye. “Your mother, I’ve come to believe. Ōkami, guardian of these woods.”

My heart thumped.

He settled back against his thin cushion. “The shrine was abandoned when I arrived, but I knew why I’d been called. I could move these old joints around then, so I began to fix the worst of the damage with Akio’s help. We kept finding scrolls lying about. They were from the priests before the temple was abandoned, however long ago that was.”

He motioned to the works lying on his desk. “We gathered them, and I worked out their messages. The old priests seemed to be a pretty secretive lot. They left instructions, talking about the proper rituals and festivals.” He nodded at me. “They mentioned Ōkami. They talked about her duty as guardian over the forest and the Sapling you’ve told me about.” His brow furrowed as he glanced down at the scrolls again. “There’s still a lot I’ve been trying to figure out. There’s this constant mentioning of the Fruit and ancient anger and redemption, and then there’s this strange passage where-”

He stopped his speech and shook his head. “Well, there I go again. Getting lost in the details.” He pointed a gnarled finger at me. “The point, Mira, is that I have a habit of believing in old stories, and with the stories I’ve been reading-” He motioned to the table. “I don’t think you’re ready to handle the ritual.”

The competitive part of my soul flickered. _Not ready? I don’t want to do the dance because it’s stupid, not because I can’t do it._ I frowned at him, my brow furrowing but not saying anything.

Master Yūta read my emotions as easily as if he were translating a scroll. With a sigh, he started his explanation with a question. “What _is_ the Kagura?”

“A ceremonial dance to honor the kami our shrine is dedicated to,” I answered having had Azūmi grill this into me.

“And what’s the miko leading the ritual said to do?” he pressed.

I blinked at him, confused. I began again, “To hono-”

He shook his head, his glasses falling to the tip of his nose. “She invokes the kami of the shrine,” he corrected, shoving his lenses back into their proper place. “Dancing the Kagura acts as a channel, so to speak, uniting the realms of kami and man. If done correctly, the kami is said to become present in our world. If chosen, it’s said that the miko can communicate with the kami or even become the kami’s vessel on earth.”

I looked at the floor, playing his words over in my mind. I understood them, but I couldn’t believe them. My chest grew hot. _Mother?_

“Yet the sources I’ve been reading,” he continued, “warn that if the miko isn’t ready, if she isn’t able to complete the ritual-” He trailed off, but lifted up a heavy, thick scroll. “A lot of things started making sense when you came to the shrine. The things you mentioned about the kamigami have really helped me understand a lot more. I’ve been reading all these works back over, but it’s been pretty hard.” He peered down at his desk, tracing over the works strewn before him. “They mention something about this shrine’s miko having to be in control over _it_ , but they don’t mention what _it_ is. It doesn’t help that a lot of the scrolls are badly damaged.”

_‘There is no reason to fear,’_ I heard her rumble deep within the memories of my soul. ‘ _We will see each other again, though not in this way.’_

I looked up at Master Yūta who had returned to shuffling through his paper. “Mother told me about this,” I announced, emotion sheering my voice. “She _told_ me we’d see each other again!”

I hopped out of my chair and grabbed Master Yūta’s desk. His eyes were wide as he stared at me, scroll in his hand. “Ōkami told you?”

I banged my head up and down, my hair flying everywhere. “This is it! She talked about this!” I backed up a few steps and began to pace, my steps matching my racing heart as I ignored the lancing pain in my shoulder. I stopped and whirled on Master Yūta. “I’m doing it,” I barked. “I’m doing the Kagura tomorrow.”

Master Yūta leaned back, his mouth forming words but nothing coming out. But I knew he wouldn’t say no. His eyes were just too bright with curiosity. His hands curled into one another as he leaned forward, a smile on his face. “Well, I guess tomorrow I’ll finally see the legends come true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, team! If you have the time, please leave a comment/review! :D


	9. Chapter 9

Azūmi moaned as I nudged her awake. “Is something wrong?” she murmured, blinking as the first rays of sunlight began to peek into the room. She took in my figure with a gasp and sat up. “What happened?”

I tilted my head and looked down at myself. Granted, I hadn’t really washed up since the hunt, and I had just spent hours sweating as I practice the Kagura, but I didn’t think I looked too terrible. I returned her horrified look with a happy pant. “Practice!”

She began to jab my body, hitting all the worse spots she could. She dug her talons into my shoulders, and hissed, “Did someone try and rip you in half?”

“It was a doe,” I grumbled, wincing as I slid out of her grip. “And it just tried to rip my arms off, but it’s fine! I can do the ritual.”

“A doe?” Her voice rose as if she was about to enter a song, but the thunderous look on her face whispered doom. “You think you’re going to be around for another year if you keep this up?” She shook her head, her nose scrunching with disdain. “And you smell like the outhouse. We need to get you cleaned up. Then an early breakfast. Then more practice.”

I yipped in agreement and scampered into the bathroom. An hour and a half of tedious cleaning, bandaging, mending and combing later, I found myself kneeling in the empty hall of haiden. Azūmi strummed a few practice notes as a pleased smile tempered her features. “Better,” she commented.

I grinned up at her but kept the comment ‘that’s what a night of practicing does’ to myself.

“All right, I think you’ll pull it off now,” she announced, getting to her feet. “Remember though, you’ll be carrying the suzu bells during the actual ritual.” She patted down the pleats of her own hakama and looked about the hall. “We need to perform the cleansing ceremony now and then prepare for the Kagura.” She reached down into her pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. She waved it in front of me. “I wrote down all the steps. Master Yūta’s added his own bits here and there, saying that they’re specific to the shrine.” She shook her head with a light laugh. “That old codger is always so buried in those scrolls, I’m amazed he hasn’t gone cross-eyed.”

Giggling, I twirled over to her and leapt, yanking the paper from her hands. I glanced at the directions. _Rice, sake, evergreen branches, salt, candles. Seems simple enough._ I dashed off to collect all the items as Azūmi went to go get the rags to start cleaning.

Everything was set up by late afternoon. The sun had already disappeared behind the white peaks, and the haiden had grown dark. Azūmi, dressed in her finest outfit, tutted as she lit the taller candles with a large match. “It’s strange to be doing this ritual this time of year, but Master Yūta was insistent.”

I didn’t answer, grinning. I snatched a sliver of flame from one of the lit wicks, holding it in my palm, and began to light the candles I could reach. I had to be careful not to ignite my own clothes; Azūmi had insisted that I wear the traditional, loose garb as I readied the shrine. Arching my body awkwardly, I leaned out to light the last candle in the back being stupid enough to leave it for last.

Azūmi glanced over at me. “Well, you seem to be rather chipper now. What’s gotten you so happy? Liking work now?”

“Mother,” I answered, feeling like a flock of birds bursting into the air.

“Mother?” she murmured as I hopped around the haiden. “Careful!” she shouted after to me. “Don’t trip! You’re already hurt enough as it is. We don’t want you spraining your ankle!”

I simply laughed her off as I continued leaping for the ceiling.

“Sheesh,” Yori’s voice came in from behind us, “and people were saying you weren’t a kid.”

I whirled on him, falling into a low, two-footed crouch, and circled behind him.

 He had turned to Azūmi. “So, I don’t really know much of this stuff, not being trained and all, but I just wanted to see if you needed help? I saw you had Akio bundling some of the branches, and since he is whatever-he-is-that’s-not-a-priest-either, I guess I wouldn’t be ruining the ritual either if I pitched in.”

I pounced at his last word, wrapping my arms around his neck, using my momentum to swing around him and pull him after me. I thought nothing of it as I felt him crumple: I had always done this with the pups as we tussled. I let go giggling as I rolled onto the floor, looking back just in time to see him catch himself – hard – on a palm. I realized my mistake when haggard coughs began raking out of his throat – the motions so vicious it left spittle sputtering from his lips.

I darted forward, a hand outstretched. “Chikushō!”

“Mira!” Azūmi snarled, all joy vanished from her voice.

I ducked back, confused by the fear in her tone. I glanced at her furious gaze only to turn back to Yori who hadn’t stopped coughing – his actions looking more like retching. He began to clutch at his chest, his face whitening to the shade of bone.

“Yori?” “Senpai?” came Azūmi’s and my voice at the same time.

He waved us off with good humor but wouldn’t stop hacking. “It’s fine,” he sputtered out, backing off the haiden. “G-good one. I’m going to- Yeah, go help Akio.”

 “Sorry, senpai,” I murmured, ducking my head to the floor.

He began wheezing, but it sounded like an improvement from his hacking. He waved off my remorse once more, and turned in the direction of the garden, banging his chest to get his lungs working again as he held his lower back with the other.

“Mira!” snapped Azūmi when he was out of earshot.

I turned towards her, head still lowered. She grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and yanked me out of the haiden and into the meadow.

“You’ve got to learn to control yourself!” she thundered. “We’re not all used to brawling and fighting like you. We aren’t wolves here, most of all not Yori!” Her arms slammed against her chest. “And you chose to act like that _there?_ Say such a vile word? Who even taught you that?” Her cheeks were flaming. “This is a sacred space to worship the kamigami! They’ve just seen what you did! If this were any other shrine, we’d have kicked you out in disgrace!”

She lifted her palms, some of the bruised ingredients I had tossed aside in the Haiden crumpled there. She picked out the cracked and leaking bottle of sake. “Other than seriously hurting Yori, you threw these to the floor! Don’t you respect the kamigami?” she bit. “You didn’t even want to do the Kagura initially! You don’t understand how serious this all is! You think being raised with the kamigami gives you total immunity?”

“Immunity?” I puzzled back. _I’ll look up the word later._

She shook her head, strands of her hair loosening from her bun. “You’ve got a lot to learn! You aren’t mature enough to handle this! I’m going to Master Yūta right now to tell him I’ll just make the offering this year! You’ll just sit and watch and then afterwards, we’ll figure out what to do with you!”

I’d have turned belly up at this point if she had known what that meant. Instead, I did what she would understand; I prostrated myself before her, my forehead grinding into the dirt. “I’m sorry, Azūmi!” I squeezed out. “Please! I didn’t mean to hurt him or insult the kamigami!”

She straightened up, glaring down at me from her thundercloud. She wasn’t appeased.

I stared into the dark ground, hot pins growing at the corner of my eyes. My voice grew raspy. “It’s just I’m so excited. I was going to see Mother today. I just-” My fingers raked back to form fists. “I just miss her!”

“I know,” came a softer voice, wrath broken. I peeked up at her and saw that she had twisted her face from me. She peeked down at me, and her shoulders slumped, pity filling her eyes. “You cry in your sleep a lot.”

Still, she turned away again. Beneath her pursed lips, I still knew her teeth were grinding. With an exasperated sigh, she shoved back her hair. “I know what you must be feeling, but you’re just not ready for this. The Kagura is one of the most important rituals of the year. It’s a miko’s sacred duty. If you make a mistake, you insult the kami of this shrine.”

Protests formed in my throat, but I kept my mouth shut. I even silenced the thin whine crawling along the roof of my mouth.

Her arms tightened across her chest. “Maybe…” She froze and looked at me, eyes simmering. “I’m not going to keep you from your mom, _but-_ ” She raised three fingers into the air. “You have to promise me three things.”

I lifted myself up onto my elbows, fervently nodding.

“First, you _can never_ act that way inside the haiden again.”

“I won’t.”

A finger dropped. “Second, you must go apologize to Yori _immediately_ after our conversation is over.”

I nodded, already scrambling to my feet.

Only the last finger was left standing. “Thirdly, you _cannot_ complain as you get ready tonight.”

I kept the grimace from my face as I bowed again and again, thanking her for her generosity. With a light frown, she held up two fingers. In a moment, I had dashed to the garden and began profusely apologizing to a healed Yori who simply laughed the whole matter off.

“It’s not like you killed me,” he dismissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a spooky Halloween! Here's my treat for you all! Please shout out your thoughts/feels in a review if you have the time.


	10. Chapter 10

“Azūmi, have you ever seen a kami?”

I cracked one eye at her. The other one Azūmi was polishing with a black liquid. Staying true to my word, I hadn’t complained as she coated my face in paint, doused me with fragrance, and stuffed me into an even more unwieldy outfit for the ritual.

“No,” she murmured back, her pupils sharp with focus on her task. She lifted the brush and twisted my chin this way and that, appraising her work. “I was never blessed by the kami like that. There’s only been a handful of miko who’ve truly spoken with them, but not one for many generations.” She caught my gaze’s downward shift and added, “But I doubt even _they_ were the daughter of a kami. I’m sure Ōkami speak with you.” She tilted my face to the right. “Now close your eyes again.”

I did and sat there in the dark, my muscles quaking. I rehearsed the steps in my mind, twisting my free hands to the rhythm.  A nervous excitement had flooded through me yet that might have been a natural response to the ribbon constricting my ribcage.

Azūmi poked my stomach. “You’ll be fine. You didn’t make a single mistake this morning, and during the ritual it always comes naturally.”

I jerked my chin in ascent, but she merely hissed. “Tsk, Mira, you nearly made me mark your forehead.”

It was twenty minutes later when we stepped out onto the grounds. The moon was just beginning to crest the mountain peaks, its gaze falling upon the valley. It illuminated the temple’s grounds with its soft light, turning everything to muted shades of grey. There wasn’t even a breeze to break the stillness that had settled upon the shrine. As I walked, it was like I had to push aside the air itself to get to the haiden.

We stopped before the structure, and Azūmi turned me towards her. She tucked back some loose strands of hair and corrected my posture: shoulders back and down, chest up and out, stomach in, hips straight. She let out a breath, giving me a nod. “It’s time,” she whispered with a smile. She leaned over and pecked my forehead. “Good luck, Mira.”

She straightened up, adorning an air of regality that I could only achieve in my dreams. All emotion was wiped from her face only for her to somehow create an aura of sublime contentment. She slid open the door before us and entered first.

I waited as she took her place beside the door, settling the instrument before her. The other priests had already gathered in the candlelit room, sitting one on each wall. Master Yūta was directly before me, his frail figure more reminiscent of an ancient oak than a withered stem in this moonlight. He sat to the side of the offerings, the suzu bells resting in his palms. Akio was kneeling on my left, mouth open as he took slow deep breaths. Yori rested on my right, no mirth upon his sealed lips. Both had their heads slightly bowed, bodies rigid, waiting.

 _They’ll be your komainu_ , I remembered Azūmi’s explanations. _They’ll be your guardians._

I took a deep breath as Azūmi played the first few frail notes, signaling the start of the ceremony.

 _You’re a wolf,_ I told myself. _You’re the daughter of Ōkami._

I lifted my chin and stared straight ahead as I stepped into the haiden. My hakama hissed as it trailed behind me, the only sound in the night. My stride was slow, steady. With each step, I let my momentum roll over me like a wave, letting it prompt my next step.

I stopped before Master Yūta, lowering into a kneel to accept the sacred bells from him. I kept my eyes lowered, but I knew his eyes were upon me. There was a pause – a slight hesitation – before he returned my bow with a lowering of his head. He lifted the bells and placed it in my palms. I bowed once more and rose onto two, steady feet.

Azūmi struck another chord behind me, and the Kagura was begun.

 _Limbs straight. Movements slow. Arms lift. Hands roll here._ The bells tinkled. _Turn to the south. Dip._ These were the thoughts that raced through my mind through a dance that was supposed to be effortless. At least, it should appear so.

Azūmi continued to strum through the first section of the music, the prelude she had called it. I continued to sway, growing more and more conscious of the fact that nothing was happening. I kept my face clean of emotion, but I nearly tripped on a turn. _Focus,_ I snapped at myself. _Twist. Raise the right hand. Lower the left. Turn. Raise the leg._

My hands began to tickle as they grew sweaty, the suzu bells proving heavier than I had realized. I kept my gaze forward and swayed to the tune as my palms began to itch. It was only when they began to ache that I realized something was happening.

Excitement flared in my stomach as I broke tradition and snuck a glance down at my fingertips. I didn’t see anything – just sweaty palms and those golden bells – but I swear I could feel something. It was heavy and sharp, like nails clawing at my skin or icy waters tearing at my nerves.

My mind froze. I recognized that feeling. I shook myself out of my realization, grateful to realize that somehow, muscle memory had kicked in and kept me moving.

Testing my theory out, I put a thought into my next step – a gentle mental prodding as I flicked my wrist. The bells chimed, but its noise couldn’t mask the rash gust of wind that blew through the haiden. The candles were extinguished, cloaking us in a dark that even the moonlight couldn’t penetrate.

I was in the cave. If I turned my head – if I lost this focus – I’d return to the haiden. But before me was the dark. 

 _Mother_?

I didn’t hear if Azūmi kept playing. I didn’t care. I was dimly aware that I continued the Kagura, imbuing each movement with a thought, a force. But below that, within my mind’s mind, I was entering the cave. I could feel those cosmic tendrils latch onto my skin, actually _feel_ them. With every movement I made, they shivered, fluttered, echoed.

I became the Dark. I was in control. For the first time since I had left the ancient wood, I could bend these forces as easily as I could breathe. The Kagura had shaken off the weight of reality. I could feel existence wash over me, past me, as if I were a stone in a river. As I settled within my consciousness, I whispered, ‘ _Mother?’_

A voice wasn’t what answered back. In this place, there was no such thing as a voice. No such thing as a form. How it answered me, I can’t explain. All I knew was that it felt like my very soul was being crushed – my very existence being taken from this world. Those tendrils turned on me, gouged into me, tightening, suffocating, yanking and dragging.

I clawed at the energy, tried to control it, distort it, direct it, but it was impossible; there was something else there, something else controlling the threads. And it was suffocating me with them. I was falling deeper into the fabric of eternity. There was no way out. I was lost. I was dying. I was nothing. I was everything.

Something seared into the back of my neck, ripping past the skin and tearing into my spine. I yelped and tried to pull away, but I had no power here. Primal pain – that inner agony which makes one wince as they see another ripped to shreds – filled my existence. Whatever it was snapped even more viciously into my neck, and I could feel my soul compacting, smashing into itself to form something semi-solid. I could sense myself in that chaos now, actually define my edges.

I had been torn from the Darkness, but I hadn’t returned to the light. Sensing a foreigner, the raging Pitch began to snap around my form, encircling me, crouching, readying itself to erase the outsider.

I was rocking on the precipice of insanity.

No, I was hanging above it. And something holding me there like an eagle raking its talons into a flea.

 _‘You.’_ The message exploded within me, cracking my spirit. The entity lifted me higher, and I dangled there before its essence. I had no idea what it was, but I knew what it wasn’t. This wasn’t Mother. This was something else. Something terrifying. Something nightmares were born from.

Master Yūta had once asked me what it was like to look at a kami. I didn’t answer him. Not that night at least. It had taken a few days; I tried to find the right descriptions, the right verbs, only to realize that it was the human language lacking, not me. I figured out the best metaphor for it as I sat in my branch above the pond, dipping my toe into its cold depths, and watching ripples be born.

“It’s like trying to find a reflection in breaking water,” I had told him. “It’s hard at first. You squint. You can’t focus. You get a headache. But eventually, your eyes get used to it and you start to see something. A reflection of what’s actually there, but still something.”

That’s what I had said, and I thought I was right. I wish I had been too. Now, I knew that I had been staring at my fantasies for too long; I had begun to think that _that’s_ how the kamigami really looked, how they really were. I realized my mistake now. As I dangled there, I was looking up, away from the reflection and at the real thing. Freeing myself from a fantasy, I was torn apart by the reality.

This was the true form of a kami.

 _‘You_ ,’ it shattered again. The being held me there, keeping the gnashing Pitch at bay, keeping me above the abyss of madness. ‘ _You are not ready.’_

It let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh! Now the plot is kicking off! Hope you readers enjoyed it! Leave a review if you've got the time! ;)


	11. Chapter 11

“Mira,” Master Yūta had asked, pausing in his lecture, “do you have a soul?”

I frowned at him, hesitant to answer. I could see by the glint in his eyes that this was a trick question; he always loved asking me those. When he raised a brow at me, I snapped out, “Yes.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but you don’t.” My lips began to curl, when he grinned. “You actually have four!”

I sat back in my seat, defenses crumbling. “Four?” I scrunched my nose, trying to imagine that.

He bobbed his head, his wrinkled jowls bouncing in time. “Yes! Yes! All humans do. Humans and kamigami that is. Some say that’s proof humans are descendants of the kamigami.”

I chewed on the inner corner of my cheek, searching for any memory – be it from Mother or from a book – that had even mentioned the idea. I furrowed my brow, a name becoming clearer. “A matimi?” the words tumbled out.

He chortled, waving a hand. “Its ‘mitama’ actually. That’s the idea. You see-” He pulled out a paper already nearly blackened with notes. He drew four circles, all of which intersected each other at the central point. “There’re four souls,” he explained, tapping the individual shapes. “The ara-mitama, the nigi-mitama, the saki-mitama, and the kushi-mitama. These four are separate aspects of the souls which maintain a balance within the person – or kami – and create its overarching spirit.” His pencil tapped the central intersection.

I leaned forward in my chair, inspecting the drawing. I gave a nod and leaned back. “So, what are they?”

His brow crinkled and he tapped his pencil, the lead leaving dots on the paper. “Well, simply-” He pointed to the top circle, the one he had called ‘ara-mitama’. “The, uh, _raw_ nature of the spirit. Violent and brutal, it acts mostly out of aggression and passion.” He dropped to the circle on the bottom. “It’s opposite is the nigi-mitama. Calm, peaceful, practical. We worship the kami in order to draw this personality out, though we still might catch it in a bad mood.”

He stopped and gave a light chortle. “You know?” He tapped his fingers. “I was just thinking. Akio’s the functional one of this place. He’d be the nigi-mitama. Azūmi’d be the _uh_ -”

“The other two?” I prodded, a giggle in my throat as he quickly looked around to make sure she wasn’t around.

He checked himself. “Ah, yes. Well, the saki-mitama is the providing soul – the blessing and generous aspect. Like Yori. However, this generosity is accomplished by the kushi-mitama.” He tapped his pen on the circle on the right. “The kushi-mitama is known as the wondrous soul – a supernatural force. It’s the _how_ behind all those purported miracles of the kamigami. However, some say that humans just call it by a different name these days.” He leaned forward, his eyes searing. “Chakra.”

My eyes brightened. “So like-”

“Yep,” he winked. “Like me.” He chortled at my pout and folded his hands on his desk, the fire flaring in his eyes. “So, Mira, do you have a soul?”

 _Do I have a soul?_ The question echoed with my fibers as I fell and kept falling. Seconds stretched to eons as I saw those memories flash before me. And below me were the gaping maws of the Pitch, seething in a maelstrom below me. I drifted towards them, a feather torn from the wing of existence, incapable of flying away. I knew they were leaping for me now, dripping fangs bared, a foot from my substance. An inch. A centimeter.

_Will I have a soul?_

Agony itself shredded my spirit. That raw, primal torture one can only realize in nightmares. Every instinct told me to claw open my being, to expose and gouge out the nerves exploding in pain. The Pitch was cauterizing every inch of my spirit, trying to heal the void I made in this place.  It was raking back my being, one layer at a time, clawing towards a victory that meant my dissolution. I didn’t belong here. Not any part of me. In this place, I wasn’t meant to exist.

Panic took over. The panic that solely instinct drives. An instinct who solely seeks escape. It was like my mind burst and kept bursting, reaching out for anything and everything it could find. I raked non-reality, feeling hundreds, thousands, millions of those cosmic strings straining between my thoughts. I wrenched them towards me, tearing them from their bindings, not caring that some of the tendrils snapped in my grip, dying with a blinding flare – the only thing I half-recognized in my dementia.

Sparking and crackling, the bundle of reality grew heavy and frantic within my thoughts. They began to snap at one another, tremors erupting from them as they tried to break from my grip. My control over them crumbled, their vibrancy searing through my being, yet I didn’t care. Crushing them with another thought, I faced the tempest as a primordial knowledge filled me.

Clutching the fabric of reality, I slashed the Pitch. Like a whip, the threads cracked through the tempest, leaving deep, ragged gouges of pale light in the writhing nothingness. The strands sparked and fractured – their fragility fully exposed – and splinters piercing my essence as the rest ceased to exist. They entered me – those chips of broken existence. For a moment, I was filled with eternity – an eternity filled with every moment of every life. That’s when the convulsions overtook me – convulsions which paralyzed a soul and began to shatter its very core.

The Pitch seethed around me, snapping yet cowering back. Yet their presence began to fade – not that they were no longer there, I- I just couldn’t- focus.

My consciousness was shattering, buckling under the weight of omniscience. Everything had become so clear that it all began to blur together – to become one ultimate truth made everything dissolve in its presence. Everything. Even me.

My thoughts became hazy emotions. Those emotions became apathy. Apathy to ignorance. I felt nothing, was nothing. If I had been able to understand, I would have returned its sweet embrace and welcomed the nothingness like an old friend – the oldest friend all people share really.

I began to drift away, the Truth a current which bore me to bliss.

 _‘Mira!’_ The thought blasted itself through my mind, an explosion within paradise. I grew vaguely aware that my shattered visage was being dragged, sensations growing clear as ignorance retook me in its sharp claws. The Truth began to fade, and all that was left was crippling loss.

 _‘Mira!’_ The voice came again.

Something stirred within me. A fleeting spark.

 _‘MIRA!’_ It thundered.

The spark caught something, igniting a simmering flame. Yet no recognition came to me – I was still too lost.

 _‘Mira,’_ commanded the voice, ‘ _I have you. You are free. I saved you from the current.’_

The voice’s fear bounced off of me, but I was too far gone for caring. I just wanted to let go, to drift to sleep.

 _‘Focus!’_ it snapped. ‘ _Focus and return to yourself! Focus and… the plane… return… body.’_

The voice began to fade as I slipped away. It was just so much sweeter where I was going. The pain was where the voice was.

It was howling now in the distance. Its thoughts were snarled at me but didn’t reach me. ‘ _Someone… outside… pull you… back._ ’

Its presence grew around me as if it was calling out to something. The voice was no longer directed at me though. It finally stopped pestering me. I could sleep now. I could be free. I could-

A great roar exploded around me as infinity’s edge came rushing towards me, constricting me. The voice’s entity was yanked away, releasing me to a new torrent of ice and fire, light and shadow. I felt my essence – whatever tattered, fractured pieces were left – solidify into some alien body.

Sensations drenched me, dousing me with a return to the nightmare. The roar only grew louder; upon hearing, I realized it was just hundreds of tortured shrieks. Then touch returned; with it came agony. With taste, the iron bite of blood. With smell, gore and smoke. Sight returned to me, turning nothingness into simple blackness.

Gravel bit into my flesh as I crumpled to the floor. Cold fingers wrapped around my shoulders, and then ice splashed against my face, eliciting a weak cough from a body I hazily understood as my own.

“Mira!” A new voice – one that truly thundered in my ears – came from above. It must have been saying this for a long time – it sounded hoarse. Yet it was still so weak: it was muted by the screams behind it.

I struggled to remember how to do it. They were just too heavy. Then whoever was out there peeled them back for me.

My eyelids opened with the aid, and I took in that blazing world beyond. Everything was shimmering, falling in and out of vapors. But I recognized that face, the one hanging above me; it had those eyes that refused to look away.

 _Akio._ It was the first thought I had, and one that took away all my energy. My eyelids fell, and the vision was lost. Yet it had been enough.

In just that moment, I saw the world aflame around me. I saw the blood smeared along his face. I saw his eyes brimming with tears.

In just that moment, I saw what I had done.

And the words came back to me, _Do you have a soul?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kick that intensity up to an 11! Here we go! Enjoy the chapter? Shout out with your thoughts :)


	12. Shrine Arc: Chapter 12

The world was bleary, unsteady as the sobs racked my chest. Sweat joined tears in the flood down my face, pooling with snot beneath my nose to drip off my chin. My teeth ripped through the lip on which they had been gnawing, causing scarlet iron to bite my tongue and run down the back of my throat. I gagged but was too weak to cough and spit it out. Everything ached, and reality was ice against my skin.

My quivering turned to convulsions, and my hands crushed the rough fabric of Akio’s sleeve, fingers entangling themselves fully into his grip. The scarred priest grunted, heaving me in a controlled fall forward: his initial attempts to get me to run had stalled to this broken shuffle.

Even in my numb state, I realized that his gaze whipped this way and that, glaring into the flames and rubble beyond. I looked too – or at least tried. I didn’t know where I was. Strange outlines rose out of the orange-flecked smoke – skeletons of buildings that I had never seen before. I could sense people out there too – more humans than I had ever known. I could hear their screams as they fled this nightmare I had created.

My body lurched to a halt as Akio yanked me back, hissing, and shoved me in another direction. I fell forward, my stomach roiling and heaving up dry retches. The spittle ran from my mouth as he kept thrusting me forward, twisting me through this endless hell of brimstone. My foot thudded against something, yet my balance was saved by a fierce yank from Akio: at the edge of my vision, I saw that I had tripped over a crimson-smeared arm. The heaving began again.

Akio snarled and wrenched me again yet this time to a full halt. My chin thunked against my chest, the whiplash popping the muscles in my neck. Squinting, I gazed through muck-coated eyelashes to see six shadows slithering from the smoke.

These were the first people I had seen, and something small fluttered in my chest. They were unhurt, it appeared, and were actually walking towards us. They appeared calm in the panic – they weren’t screaming or shouting or crying. Yet that small fluttering thing died as I felt Akio’s muscles coil like Kizuato’s as he accepted a challenge.

It was then that I realized that the figures held objects in their hands. Objects that brightly bit the dark, reflecting the embers of the blaze around us.

_Kunai,_ I half-realized. _Shinobi._ A limp gasp raked my throat as yet another of my dreams rotted before my eyes.

Akio shoved me behind him, glinting metal appearing in his freed left hand.

I stumbled on a newborn’s legs, flopping to the floor like the pathetic creature I was. The wet dirt cushioned my fall, yet the sharp gravel and broken glass forced a yelp from my tongue. A sharp gust howled through our street, corralling blinding dust and choking smoke. Akio and the shadows disappeared in the dark just as the clashes of metal against metal began.

Gasps stabbed my throat as my fingers crunched into rocky soil. I shoved myself up, the screams of metal and man crashing against my eardrums until I couldn’t distinguish one from the other. I slid my legs, dragging them through splintered wood and shattered glass, trying to gather myself to stand.

Yet I never got to that point. The darkness erupted as a form slammed into me. My chest crushed against my lungs, beating the breath out of me. I blinked, eyes burning as hot ash floated onto them. Nothing of the figure was visible: my world was opaque save for the cold steel frozen inches above my neck. Nothing but the person’s tendrils of musubi.

Only once before had I felt such an immediate and innate loathing explode within me. A loathing so unnaturally deep that it must have sparked from the innermost core of my being that abhorred fire as well. I could only quake in disgust as its essence – its fetid mass of putridity and rot – writhed and burbled above me.

I squirmed weakly but whoever – w _hat_ ever – had me pinned lifted and slammed me back into the floor. My skull cracked against something that splintered, and my vision flickered to black. Pressure built upon my chest, pinning me to the floor. Any thought of grasping the threads of reality were completely drowned out by absolute terror of what had happened.

I shook my head, sparking my vision once more, only to see that the smoke had cleared, allowing a bleary face join the kunai above me. Her hair was a sickly yellow, but black strands matted it like carnivorous brambles preying upon a dying sunflower. Her skin was too-white as if she’d never seen the sun, but a smattering of thin scars whispered that night was preferred. Thin lips gave way to soft cheeks that should have belonged to an innocent. Yet I knew the truth from her eyes: they were lifeless shards of a tainted ivory. I was looking at the skull of Death itself, and I let a snarl rip through the air.

The woman moved closer, scanning me with that dead expression. “Oh?” Her voice was sickeningly mellifluous, stroking against my eardrums like the claws of a starving tiger. “Something’s different.” She lifted her chin, revealing a black cloth wrapped around her neck with metal band attached. It had a strange symbol incised upon the steel – one that my vision could only express as a blur – but I had read enough to understand what it was.

I wasn’t allowed to think much more as the kunai kissed my forehead, red lips forming as my blood rose to meet it. The scarlet liquid pool around it, curious, before breaking away, running down my nose and into my eyes. I tried to shake it out, but the kunai dug deeper.

I snarled again, ignoring the increased pressure grinding into my sternum as I struggled.

“What the hell is she?” snapped a voice to the right. Another blurry figure formed just outside my range of sight.

“Her eyes,” Death ignored, grinding the kunai deeper. “They’re different.”

“She’s no Uchiha,” the other’s voice snapped, filling the air with venom. “But she nearly took out the entire town.”

Death blinked, a sickly purple staining her eyelids. “No, she’s no shinobi. She’s got no control.” Her face slithered towards mine, her lifeless visage stopping just an inch from my skin. Her breath was ice and smelled like rotting roses. “You saw the scarred one. Once he got past her ninjutsu, she was easy to take down. Too easy. He just threw some water at her and slipped those beads around her neck.”

My running blood became too much. I couldn’t blink it out now. I was forced to shut my eyes, letting it pool there as hell burned around me.

The shadow continued in his graveled voice, “That was no priest.” He let out a hiss. “He’s old though. Should be easy enough.” 

“I know that scar,” Death spoke. “He was one of the Mist’s.”

The other growled, “So not the Leaf. Seems our mission got a bit interesting. You think there’re others?”

“Yes. Keep your guard up.” I felt her breath upon my face as the pooling blood found a natural rivulet down my cheek; it slithered away, joining my tears. “Now, little beast,” Death whispered, “You’ve just ruined our mission, and I’ve lost my patience.” The kunai met bone. “It’s time to start answering questions. You a jinchūriki?”

My lips curled back, causing the blood to flood down my cheeks, as another snarl ripped out of my throat. A sharp smack from the back of her bony hand snapped my teeth together, but the hateful growl continued rumbling within my chest.

“I’m going to assume yes,” she disgustingly cooed, “but _which_ is the question. I haven’t heard anything about the Leaf losing the Nine Tails. So,” she twisted the knife, “which one?”

My whimper scratched my tongue.

“ _Which one_?” she hissed.

My fingers dug further into the dirt, stones wrenching nail from flesh. My whine deformed into a pained howl. 

And in the distance, I heard an answer.

“The hell’s that?” the man snapped, his voice terse but unfazed. He disappeared from my range of vision, though I could hear his steps pacing behind me. “Something’s coming.”

Death spit, “Well, we don’t want someone going.” Her voice filled the air above me, directing her command at the man. “Hold her down.”

I thrashed and jerked, shrieking and snarling, but boulders dug themselves into my shoulders as Death’s clammy claws dug their nails into the skin of my left leg.

I heard the baritone cracks before I felt the agony. Each of my nerves screeched as bones were wrenched apart, their jagged edges tearing into the ligaments that fought to keep them together. The woman jostled my shattered ankle, testing her handiwork by the pitch of my screams.

“It’s a war, monster,” the man growled, releasing me.

I ripped open my eyes, locking the man – one whose features were hidden behind a kabuki mask – within my gaze. My teeth gnashed, my saliva turning frothy, as rage overpowered terror. I lashed out, rending past reality to tear at those threads of existence. But before I could – before I could see his body consumed by scarlet as the air filled with his shrieks – something tightened around my throat, something icy that snapped at my flesh with electric fangs. It choked me, locking me within my feeble and broken body, separating me from all that is and ever was.

I shook as feeble understanding whispered the truth to me, how truly I had been crippled.

“Can’t do anything now, can you?” Death simpered. “Not with that necklace on.”

I bit my cheeks, drawing blood, as I stared up at her skull-face. Terror and hate etched her features into my memory, searing even the tiniest scar into my mind, drawing laboriously over the gleam in her eye – like light flickering off yellowed bones. The whine in my throat turned into a weak growl.

“Little demon,” she murmured, cupping my cheek in her skeletal hand, “you’ll make our village very happy.”

I twisted and snapped at her hand, biting deeply into the flesh around her thumb. The blood welled in my mouth as I tore at the flesh, feeling the ligaments give way as I neared her bone.

She didn’t even cry out. She just cracked the handle of her kunai against my temple. “What’s coming?” she asked her partner, shaking her head and getting off of me, kicking my splintered ankle in the process.

I shrieked in pain, reaching for my leg as further movement only multiplied the torment. Then I smelt it – the scent that made me freeze, that made my stomach leap into my throat: the earthy scent of fur. I twisted to see the shinobi settle into crouches, hands gripping their kunai.

It was like yesterday and the hundred times before. Our alpha had taught us well. The hunt was on, and the whole pack was here. 

I continued my shrieking, lending my pain to their camouflage, letting them know where I was. While the smoke should keep them hidden, it would blind them more completely than it would a human: both smell and sight would be rendered useless. I banged the ground, throwing off any vibration that could give location away and threw rocks at the shinobi. I hit the man in the shoulder. Just as he turned to snarl at me, the pack struck.

A shadow exploded from their right, releasing the feral demon of Kizuato as he snapped its fangs with a thunderous crack. The masked man turned, raising his weapon and falling into the trap. Utau leaped from the black clouds, driving his yellow fangs through the man’s armor and ending him as he would a rabbit.

Death was silent as she leapt away, escaping Ashi’s jaws a second too late. She disappeared into the smoke, launching a flurry of knives at my sister. One dug deeply into her snout, but the rest only bounced off the thick ruff coating her neck. Fur bristling, she shook her head with a whine but couldn’t dislodge the blade as the wound bubbled red.

I struggled to stand, to help her, but could only fall pathetically onto my stomach. Gnashing my teeth against the torture, I crawled towards her to help remove the knife, only to feel myself lifted from behind by the fabric of my clothing. I shrieked as my leg swayed in the air, growing nauseous as it twisted unnaturally below me.

_‘Kizuato!’_ I yelped through my whimpers. His hot, heady breath was unmistakable.

_‘We’re taking you back to the forest, Mira,’_ Kizuato growled as he loped towards the edge of the town. He growled at the others. ‘ _Ashi, follow me and help protect Mira. Utau, help get the priest.’_

Utau obeyed without a sound, twisting and vanishing in the smoke.

Kizuato sprinted through the wrecked streets, leaping over toppled houses and broken forms. People flitted past us, appearing more like screaming and pointing apparitions that belonged to this shadow-world. It all began to blur before me. With each bounce, tremors barged through my leg, making me lightheaded from the agony. I couldn’t protest that we were leaving our family. I couldn’t ask what had happened. I just tried to keep from passing out as we raced back to the mountains, back to our home.

But even that I couldn’t do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you did, please feel free to leave some kudos and/or a review!


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